Ain't Never Seen Nothing Like a Galway Girl
by nuclearmse
Summary: Aoife moves to Charming to take over her dying aunt's coffee shop. A little car trouble brings her to the Teller-Morrow garage, where she makes quite an impression on Chibs. They're both trying to figure things out when ghosts from her past stir up trouble for everyone. Begins about two months before the pilot episode.
1. A Galway Girl

Chibs was bent under the hood of a car when he heard Tig and Juice speaking to a woman with an Irish lilt to her voice. He smiled to himself - he had always loved the sweet accents of Irish ladies - they reminded him of his time on the Emerald Isle before Jimmy O'Phelan. He listened for a moment, not so much at the words, but to the sounds of her voice. "From Galway," he murmured to himself. He poked his head out from under the car and saw her glossy black hair and pale freckled skin. He would bet cash money that her eyes were blue. "Aye. Galway," he repeated, pleased at his ability to still distinguish between the accents of Ireland after his years of exile.

He must have been louder than he thought, because the woman turned her full attention to him and nodded. "Aye. Galway. Good ear." Her eyes were a deeper blue than he had predicted, and flirty little smile she gave him was particularly unexpected. Young women like her didn't usually grin that way at aging bikers with stringy graying hair and a Glasgow smile. Damn, she was pretty – in addition to the eyes and curls, she was plump and curvy.

Chibs felt his own mouth curl up in a smile as he nodded quickly at her and went back to his work. He found that he couldn't help listening to the conversation between her and Juice now that he'd seen her. Juice had come upon her, stranded by the side of the road, with a flat tire and a flat spare. They were waiting for Piney to return with the tow truck, and the woman - Aoife, it seemed – had come back with Juice rather than stay alone by the side of the road. As Chibs finished his work and let the hood of the car slam shut, Half-Sack was dashing up in the other direction. "Juice, Clay needs you."

"Sorry," Juice smiled at the woman. "Duty calls. Tig here'll take care of you." Tigs gave a wide, lecherous grin, and Aoife turned a shade paler. The smile was gone from her face.

"Clay wanted you to go help Gemma in the office." Half-Sack informed Tig, hiding a smirk. Chibs didn't bother hiding the smirk, especially with the nasty glare that Tig shot the prospect as the stalked away. Half-Sack glanced between Chibs and Aoife. "Do you need me to help the lady?" Half-Sack asked. Chibs made eye contact with Aoife, and he noticed the agitation in her eyes. She shook her head - no, she would not prefer if Half-Sack helped her. Her eyes seemed to plead with Chibs to stay with her.

"No." Chibs said in a growl, and Aoife's body visibly relaxed. "If you can let Gemma know this car is all set, I'll keep the lass company until Piney comes back with the truck." He wiped his hands on the rag from his back pocket, and then turned to Aoife. His voice became lower and gentler. "Ya don't have to stand in the sun. Come on, lass, we've got some picnic benches over this way. Would ya like a drink of something?"

"A cold drink would be lovely." He fumbled with the change in his pockets and got them two cans from the soda machine. He put them both in front of her and let her choose. "Thank you. So, we haven't really been introduced. I'm Aoife."

"You can call me Chibs," he responded, and he saw her examining his scars. "Appropriate, ain't it?" He commented with a wry smile, using his middle finger to trace the Glasgow smile he permanently wore.

She nodded, confirming that she knew at least that bit of Scottish slang. She seemed uncertain what to say, and Chibs regretted bringing up his scarred cheeks. Aoife studied him silently for a moment, and then spoke up again. "Your accent - Glasgow?"

"I'm not the only one with a good ear." He gave her his little smile again. "Aye, Glasgow born. Surprised it's still so obvious. I moved around a lot - I lived for a while in Ireland before coming here."

"Another connection - I lived in Scotland for a while myself - Edinburgh." He watched her relax even further, but that didn't erase the worry lines around her eyes.

"Are you all right, lass?"

"Of course," she assured him. "Well, I might have panicked a little out in the desert with a flat tire. I'm new to the area and wasn't even sure who to call for help. I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me. Your presence makes me feel...comfortable."

Chibs nodded, trying to ignore the way those words made his heart beat a little faster. "Ain't been told that in a long time. But it makes no never mind to me if it makes you happy."

"Your voice reminds me of someone I knew," she offered as a way of explanation. "I didn't mean to be rude to that Tig guy or the other guy who offered to help but I don't deal very well with new people." They studied one another for a moment. Chibs was sure there was more than what she was saying, but there wasn't a polite way to push the issue. "Can I ask your real name, Chibs?" she leaned forward a little.

The rumble of Piney's tow truck pulling back in saved him from that question. He pretended he hadn't heard her. At the same time, he pretended that he hadn't been a breath away from telling her. He didn't share his name with most women. Gemma knew it, of course, and Donna might, but he didn't tell the crow eaters who flocked to their parties. He felt like giving them his real name was wrong. Your old lady called you by your real name, your kids called you by your real name, but crow eaters got your nickname - if you bothered with conversation at all. And the fact that this woman had almost gotten his real name from him in the first 20 minutes he'd known her troubled Chibs. He didn't need complications. The club didn't need complications. "I'm going to go help Piney unload, and then we can get your car and bring it back." Aoife nodded and smiled at him. As Chibs walked, he could feel her eyes follow him. She had a placid gaze that seemed to peer into your soul, and Chibs felt self-conscious – something in him cared what she thought about him. Chibs had worked hard through the years to bring his emotions in check as much as possible, and the feelings that Aoife was stirring in him were simultaneously enticing and frustrating.

He felt those eyes on him with every move. "Mother of Christ, that woman's intense," he murmured to himself, hoping that vocalizing it would relieve some of the tension that was making his head swirl and his pants a little too tight. When the tow truck was empty again, Chibs walked Piney back to Aoife, back to those azure blue eyes. "Piney, this is Aoife. We're going to need you to go get her car."

"Like hell I will," Piney said with a smile. "I gotta doctor's appointment. Opie's taking me. Keys are yours, though."

Aoife insisted on accompanying Chibs back to the car. They made small talk, mostly her asking him questions about Charming. She hadn't been there long, he found out, maybe a month. She was here, she said, to take over her aunt's business, a coffee shop on Main, while her aunt was dying of cancer. She kept up a steady patter of commentary, and with every word, Chibs found himself relaxing. Her eyes were easier to handle when they were smiling. They loaded up her car and brought it back to the shop. She sat back out at the picnic benches while Chibs searched the rack. He returned to her a few moments later. "Lass, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we don't have the tires you need in stock. I called around, and they can get them here by tomorrow afternoon. Hope that'll be alright."

Aoife shrugged. "I live above the coffee shop. If you can get me home, I'll be fine until I need the car."

"You ever ridden on a bike before?" Chibs asked.

"Once or twice. You got a helmet for me?"

Chibs leaned into the office. "Hey, Gemma, you got a spare helmet we can borrow? We're going to have to keep this lass' car overnight so I was going to give her a lift."

Gemma stepped into the doorway and gave Chibs and Aoife both a once-over. "Yeah," she crooked her finger at Aoife. "Come here, let's see what we can come up with." While trying on the helmets, Gemma asked Aoife a few questions about herself – where she was from, what she did. "Alright, there you go," Gemma said brightly as she shooed the woman back to Chibs.

Chibs felt his heart beat double-time when Aoife climbed on the back of his bike and put her arms around his waist. What the hell was going on with him? He heard her laughing or giggling a few times, and he felt a dopey grin cross his features. When he finally rolled the bike to a stop in front of the coffee shop, his heart was lighter than it had been in a long time. "What were ya giggling about there, lass?" He asked as he took her helmet and hung it on the handlebars.

"I felt so free. I couldn't help it." She gave him another bright smile. Damn, his cheek muscles were going to hurt from the workout they were getting from her. "Well, thank you for the ride, Chibs." She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek, brushing his scar as she did, and Chibs was simultaneously surprised that she showed no aversion to the scar and that that fact made him so happy. She started to walk away when he reached out a hand and caught her wrist, pulling her back to him.

"Filip," he whispered hoarsely.

"Pardon?" Aoife was inches away.

"You asked before. My real name is Filip. If you need me, call the garage, but of course you'd better ask for Chibs there." He trailed off, not sure what else he was planning to say.

"Filip," Aoife repeated, like she was rolling his name around on her tongue to see how it felt. "Well, in that case," she said as she leaned over and kissed his other cheek, again brushing her lips on the scar, "thank you, Filip."

Chibs watched her until the side door to the building had closed behind her and the lights upstairs in her apartment came on. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head as if he was trying to clear the cobwebs. Fastening his helmet, he rode away into the dusk. His back felt a lot colder without her warmth pressed up against it, but if he pictured her, he could hear her chuckling behind him.


	2. A Chat with Gemma

Chibs was immediately suspicious when he saw Gemma sitting on the picnic table as he came to a stop outside the clubhouse. She sat on the table itself, resting her elegant long legs that ended in heeled boots on the bench. "Didn't expect to see you out here alone," he grunted at her as she took a long drag on her cigarette.

"Juice and Tig started a drinking contest, and the rest of the boys joined in. It's pretty loud and stupid in there right now. Even the crow eaters have made themselves scarce." She shrugged. He lit a cigarette up and plopped down beside her. "I might have wanted a minute to talk to my favorite Scotsman." Chibs raised an eyebrow at her. Gemma never just chatted. She examined Chibs' face for a moment in the dim light. "So the little lassie is safely home?" she asked with an amused smirk.

"Aye," he verified, a small smile curling up the edge of his lips despite his attempts to hide it.

"Well, you weren't gone long enough for even a quick first fuck, so I'm going to guess that just being in her presence makes you smile that way."

"Fuck, Gemma-" Chibs choked on his smoke and hoped the dim light would obscure the heat in his cheeks.

She held up her hand to shut his mouth. "You're not a dumb kid like my son can be, Chibs. I don't have to tell you that if she can't handle the club, it won't work." She took another drag on her cigarette, pausing for dramatic effect. "And I don't have to tell you that if she hurts you, I will eat her alive."

Chibs snorted. "Understatement of the fucking year." He watched the cherry of his cigarette burn.

"Filip," Chibs looked up at Gemma when she used his real name. "It would be good to see you happy," she said sincerely, "and you were happy when you pulled into the parking lot. When I talked to that girl in the office, I didn't immediately want to strangle her."

There was another snort from Chibs. "Careful there, Gem. You almost said you liked her."

"I wouldn't say that. Someone might think I'm getting soft." She took another drag off of her cigarette. "You can't hide things from me, Chibs. I know you like her. I think she has a thing for you, too."

"Girls like that don't have 'things' for old bikers," he retorted, sucking in the smoke. "She's young, I'm a 'bad boy.' She'll get over it. She's fine-looking, but the best idea would be for me to fucking forget the whole bloody thing."

Gemma rolled her eyes. "Men," she muttered under her breath. It was time to get home, where she only had one to deal with, rather than a whole clubhouse full. "Good night, honey," she said as she slid to the ground.

"'Night, Gemma." Chibs gave her a kiss on the cheek. He watched her stroll to her Escalade, his face passive but his mind whirring. Gemma wasn't a matchmaker, unless it fit into some grand scheme of hers. He would lay down his life for that woman, but he wasn't sure he would trust her with his heart. He finished another cigarette, listening to the muffled sounds of partying going on inside and contemplating the strange twists and turns of the day. His free hand absentmindedly touched his cheek where Aoife's lips had pressed an hour before and called him by his Christian name. He shook his head the way he had outside of her apartment, but his brain churned, and Chibs knew he wouldn't get any peace tonight if he just tried to go to bed. If he couldn't clear his head, then he knew how to make it too cloudy to care – there was a bottle of Irish whiskey behind the bar with his name on it.


	3. Rescue Me

Chibs had spent most of the day rebuilding a custom engine. He was sitting on one of the picnic benches, draining a water bottle to kill his dehydration headache, when he noticed that Aoife's station wagon hadn't moved. "Juicey-boy, you seen the tire truck?"

Juice shook his head. "Sorry, man. You'll have to check with Gemma. I'm on my way out with the flatbed."

Chibs walked into the office to find Tig ranting in front of Gemma. "You're fucking kidding me! The fucking tire truck got a flat tire and needs to be towed. This is some kind of sick fucking joke!" Chibs snorted loudly. Tig snarled, nostrils flaring. "It's not fucking funny. That British bitch has been riding my ass about her car being done all day today, and she needs four new tires that are on that fucking truck."

Chibs peeked out through the window. Mrs. Millington was sitting primly, her white hair perfectly coiffed. Chibs glanced at Tig, who was giving the elderly woman a look of pure menace, and then back at Mrs. Millington. He took pity on Tig (otherwise it would be nothing but bitching all evening) and walked out to her, a smile pasted on his face. He had overheard her ask for him to work on her car that morning, and the news that he was otherwise occupied had annoyed her. She had spent the entire day sitting outside the garage, harassing Tig, refusing all offers from Gemma of a ride home, and being a general nuisance. "Mrs. Millington, such a pleasure to see you again."

"Mr. Telford," she answered back in her posh British accent, barely dulled by decades of living in the states. "A pleasure to see you as well. Is that worthless young man done with my car yet? I think he's been slacking all day just to rack up the labor charges."

Chibs managed not to roll his eyes and continue smiling. "Mrs. Millington, we're waiting for the tires to come in for your car and we've just gotten word that they won't be in today. I'm sorry for the inconvenience. Why don't you let me drive you home, and I can bring the car over tomorrow morning as soon as it's ready?"

"Such a dear boy you are, Mr. Telford. I always did have a special place in my heart for Scotsmen." Mrs. Millington patted him on the cheek. "You will check my invoice and make sure the labor charges are correct."

"You have my word, ma'am." He offered his arm to the woman, who leaned heavily on him, close enough he could smell her nauseatingly floral perfume. When they passed the office, Tig tossed the keys to Chibs, who mouthed, "you owe me" to him in return. Chibs drove Mrs. Millington home while she insisted on telling him about her dear departed husband Angus, who hailed from Inverness and had an enormous sex drive, which she explained she had heard was common with Scotsmen while moving closer and closer to Chibs on the bench seat. Chibs was so far over in the seat that the manual crank for the door handle was pressing into his thigh. He had to park around the corner, and Mrs. Millington leaned on his arm even harder as he walked her to the apartment door. "There you are, ma'am. We'll bring your car over tomorrow."

Mrs. Millington opened the front door and hesitated. She put on what Chibs supposed was her version of a coy smile and fluttered her eyelashes. "You know, Mr. Telford, you fill out those jeans and shirt very well. My husband has been gone for seven years. I'm a woman with needs." Chibs eyes bulged and his cheeks went crimson. This woman, eighty if she was a day, was coming onto him. "It gets lonely in that big queen size bed by myself." He froze as she reached for the crotch of his jeans.

"Chibs, there you are!" Aoife slid her arm around Chibs' waist, her hip blocking the path of Mrs. Millington's hand. Pretending to plant a kiss next to his ear, Aoife whispered, "play along" before turning to Mrs. Millington and lying, "Pardon me, I didn't mean to interrupt." Mrs. Millington glared daggers and said nothing.

"Mrs. Millington, this is my girl, Aoife McIntyre. Aoife McIntyre, Mrs. Millington." Chibs introduced them. Aoife ignored the other woman's glare and cordially offered her hand. Mrs. Millington muttered something about needing to feed the cat and disappeared into the apartment building, letting the door slam close.

"Thanks for rescuing me, darlin', even if you did have to pretend to be my girlfriend to do it," Chibs sighed. Aoife slid her hand into his, and Chibs forgot anything else he might have said. He was hyperaware of the feeling of her small, soft hands interlaced with his.

She smiled up at him. "Not much of a hardship, really, but keep pretending. She's watching us out the window. And I'm trying desperately not to burst out laughing."

Chibs glanced up, and, sure enough, there was Mrs. Millington peeking through her first floor apartment curtains at the two of them. "Well, then, I guess you'd better walk me back to my truck, my girl." Continuing the façade, Aoife's hand remained in his. Chibs thought his heart would pound out of his chest. Once they rounded the corner, he asked, "How much of that did you hear?" Aoife gave him an impish grin and giggled. He groaned. "All of it?"

"Did it start with her telling you that you filled out your clothes pretty well?" She asked with another giggle.

"Aye, I think that's how it went, lass."

"Then I heard every embarrassing word."

"Don't suppose I'll live that down any time soon, then." They had reached the truck, and Chibs leaned back against the door and ran his free hand through his hair. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, that was fucking awkward. I don't know how I would have gotten out of it if you hadn't come along."

"You would have thought of something." Aoife made a show of looking him up and down before commenting lightly. "She's right. You do fill out that shirt and jeans well. Can't blame a girl for trying."

"I most certainly can if she's old enough to be my damn mother!" Chibs protested, and then realized how ridiculous the whole thing was and that Aoife was flirting with him. He chuckled, and Aoife laughed, her hand squeezing his. His brain locked up – she was still holding his hand. She could have dropped it anywhere between the corner and here, but she hadn't. She seemed to realize at the same time, and Chibs pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead as their eyes met. Chibs watched her tongue dart out and lick her lips. He wanted nothing more than to pull her close to him and taste those lips, but he forced himself to stay still. His blood was rushing in his ears so loudly that he was sure Aoife could hear every beat of his heart.

The trill of his cell phone broke the spell. With his free hand, Chibs answered. "Aye?"

It was Tig. "We have a situation. Get back here ASAP."

"Got it." He slid the cell phone back into his pocket. "I have to get back to work, lassie. I'm glad we ran into each other. And…thanks for rescuing me."

Aoife kissed his cheek, and her lips lingered longer than usual on the scar. When she was back on flat feet staring at him, Chibs thought she looked disappointed. She still hadn't let go of his hand. Before Chibs could think through his next move, he brought her hand to his lips and pressed his chapped lips to her knuckles. "Hope I'll see you again soon, lass."

"I'd like that." She stepped back so he could get into the truck. He started the truck before he realized he hadn't told her about her car…and she hadn't asked. Maybe she found him as intoxicating as he found her. No, he had to get that thought out of his head. Tig said ASAP. Take care of the business with her car, get to the clubhouse. He rolled down the window.

"Nearly forgot – tires didn't come in today. Your car won't be ready until tomorrow. Will ya be alright without it tonight?" Aoife smiled at him and nodded, and again, Chibs' mouth ran away on him. "I mean, if you need something tonight, I can come by after work. Could be late, though."

"You're so sweet. I'll be fine." She took advantage of the open window to give him another kiss on the cheek. "But you can always come by if you want." Damn. She gave that little flirtatious grin she had given him the first time she met him, and Chibs felt his heart race again. He pulled the truck into reverse and drove off, but not before he met her eyes one more time and she winked at him.


	4. Hope

Chibs' cell phone trilled next to him. "Fuck." He'd drunk himself into a stupor again the night before to keep himself from riding to Aoife's and knocking on her apartment door, and he wasn't even sure he was sober yet. Why had he drunk that damn whiskey Tig offered? Cheap spirits gave him a hangover every time. He rolled over and looked at the clock. "Eight fucking thirty," he muttered. The cell phone rang again, and Chibs answered with a growl. "There better be a damn good reason you're calling me this early on my day off."

"And good morning to you, too, sunshine," Piney's gruff voice answered.

Chibs groaned and let his head fall back on the pillow. "Piney, why the hell am I on the phone with you now instead of sleeping?"

"Doc wants me over to St. Thomas for some testing this morning. Specifically told me to bring a ride with me. Donna was supposed to do it, but both of her kids have the flu and Opie can't get out of work."

Chibs sighed and covered his eyes with his free arm, hoping that blocking the light would relieve the pounding in his head. "Okay. Can you get down to the garage? I have a car we need to deliver this morning."

"I'll be there in 30," Piney confirmed and the line went dead. Chibs dialed another number.

"Chibs?" Half-Sack answered. "Why are you calling me from inside the clubhouse?"

"Cause I'm hungover and you're a prospect. Are the new tires on that station wagon yet?"

"Got it done first thing."

"Now that's a good Prospect. Call Ms. McIntyre and let her know I can bring it to her with the invoice."

"Can do. What about Mrs. Millington? You going to drop her car off, too?" Chibs shivered at the thought of facing the woman again today.

"Ah, no. Tell Tigger that he's on his own with that one. Tell him it's a present from his dear friend Chibsy for feeding me cheap shots last night."

Chibs was leaning on Aoife's station wagon when Piney pulled up in his pick-up. "Takin' it to the Irish Coffee Shop on Main." Piney nodded in acknowledgement.

Chibs settled himself into the driver's seat, adjusted it for his height, and turned the key in the ignition. The car stereo immediately began playing. Chibs recognized the drumbeat and accordion of the Pogues'" If I Should Fall From Grace with God," and he grinned. "Excellent fucking taste, lassie," he said to himself. By the time he reached the coffee shop, he was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to Flogging Molly.

Chibs expected Piney to stay in his truck, but as he was standing at the counter with the invoice and keys, waiting for Aoife to finish waiting on a customer, Piney shuffled up next to him. Chibs didn't quite realize that he was there until Piney left out a wolf whistle and said approvingly, "Now ain't she a looker! I didn't get a good look at her the other day."

Chibs bit his lip to hold back a smile. He didn't have any right to feel proud of Aoife's beauty, she wasn't his. Not his old lady, not his girlfriend, not even a girl he was seeing. But Chibs felt his chest puff out, just the same. And then Aoife greeted him, and Chibs got an eyeful of her outfit today. She was wearing a sapphire blue halter-top that complemented her eyes and accentuated her ample bust, and her hair was pulled into a high ponytail so that her curls just brushed the tops of her exposed shoulders. He barely heard her ask him how he was because all he knew was that his jeans had suddenly gotten way too tight. As she leaned over and gave him her customary kiss on the cheek, he was still picking his jaw off the floor. He finally managed to sputter out, "Christ, love, you look gorgeous."

She took the invoice and began to count out the cash, and Chibs watched a blush color her cheeks. "Thanks, Chibs. I am toying with going over to the tattoo shop after work, and I know I want something that will be visible when I wear a top like this."

"Getting some ink, lovely?" Chibs felt jealous of whatever tattoo artist got to do that work. He unconsciously licked his lips at the thought touching Aoife's creamy skin and kissing his way across the dusting of freckles on her shoulders. "What're you thinking?"

Aoife's eyes got a little misty. "It's a memorial piece." An alarm behind them went off. "Sorry, boys, I'd love to chat more, but we're hopping today. Can I get you anything?"

Chibs ordered an industrial-sized coffee and muffin to go. "Gotta take this old bastard to the hospital for some tests, so I can't stay."

"Maybe you can come by later?" she suggested. "You seem to be a man who knows something about tattoos," she said, her eyes tracing the tattoos up his right arm until they disappeared under his sleeve. He felt like he'd been scorched where her gaze lingered on him. Another alarm pierced the air, and Aoife gave Chibs another peck on the cheek before hurrying away.

Piney didn't say anything until they were in the cab of his truck. "That's a damn fine woman, Chibs. She ain't like nothing I've ever seen you with before."

"That's because a lass like that ain't interested in being with a guy like me." Chibs grunted back. If he told the lie often enough, that there was no chance between he and Aoife, a girl who couldn't be much older than his daughter, maybe he would believe it.

Piney gave a snort of disbelief and muttered, "yeah, right."

Chibs sat patiently in the benches provided near the hospital registration desk while Piney got checked in. He had a paperback in his hand, but he wanted to make sure Piney was properly settled before he got involved in the story. Chibs watched Piney lumber over to the bench and sit down. Piney said, "Okay, brother, they've got me all set. They're taking me back to radiology to start." The older man stopped speaking. He cleared his throat a few times, but didn't say anything more.

"Piney, you alright?" Chibs pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead to see Piney better.

"Look, Chibs, I appreciate you coming down here with me and everything, but I just don't know if I feel comfortable with you being here all day. The only person who ever comes with me to these appointments is Donna. It just feels…what I got going on…I don't –"

"You ain't comfortable with me being around while they poke and prod ya?" Chibs asked. "It's understandable."

"You nailed it. I'm not."

"Tell you what. I've got my cell on me. I've got a book to read. You call me when you are ready for that ride home, and I'll come get ya."

"Where you going to go?" Piney asked.

"There's places I can walk – the park, restaurant across the street –"

Piney shook his head. "No." He pulled his truck keys from his shirt pocket. "What you need to do is go back to that coffee shop and chat up that pretty waitress. Go on, take the damn keys." Chibs obeyed. It wasn't hard when it was what he really wanted to do.

"Hey, there, lass." Chibs strolled to the coffee shop counter and leaned on it with one elbow. "You got anything back there for starving Scot?"

"Chibs! You're back! Would my favorite starving Scotsman like a shepherd's pie? My grandmother's recipe," Aoife offered almost seductively.

"That sounds fucking delightful," Chibs told her as he sat down at the table closest to the cash register. He knew that he was wearing another dopey grin as soon as she called him her "favorite starving Scotsman."

Aoife glanced around. "Where's Piney?"

"He didn't want me to wait the whole day at the hospital. Wanted to keep his medical issues private. He'll call when he needs me."

"You're a good friend," Aoife commented as she put the shepherd's pie in front of Chibs.

Chibs shook off the compliment. He sipped his coffee and tried to explain. "The Sons, we take care of each other. We're family. The club is pretty much the only family I have."

"Family," Aoife repeated, biting her lip and fingering the silver Brigid's cross that hung from her neck. "Aye. Nothin's more important than family."

Chibs spent the next four hours at that table not managing to read more than ten pages of his book. Aoife flitted around the coffee shop, brewing fresh coffee, serving customers, and busing tables. Every time her orbit took her by Chibs, which happened quite often since he had strategically positioned himself near the register, they kept up a running conversation – mostly Chibs asking Aoife about her past – where she had lived, what she had done there. He marveled at how much living she had packed into her short life.

Finally, at just before 2, they were the only two people in the shop. Aoife brought over a fresh pot of coffee to fill up Chibs' mug. "Thanks, lovely." She turned to walk away from his table, and he held out his arm, lightly catching her at the waist. "Why don't you take a minute to sit down?" She turned to look at him and his hand brushed the exposed skin of her lower back. Her back arched into his touch but then she froze like a startled rabbit. "Pardon, darlin'." Chibs apologized quickly and withdrew his arm.

"No, don't apologize. Your hand was just a little cold. It – it startled me." She sat down in the other chair at the table, putting down the coffee pot.

"You know, when I started up your car this mornin', I enjoyed the music immensely. First song was "If I Should Fall From Grace with God" – one of my favorites. Excellent fucking taste, lassie. I didn't expect a woman of your age to even know the Pogues. Were you even born when that album came out?"

"A woman of my age?" Aoife arched an eyebrow at him, and a smile played across her features. "Chibs, how old do you think I am?"

"Dunno," he shrugged, his palms suddenly sweaty. This could be dangerous territory. "You look about twenty, maybe twenty-one."

Aoife laughed. "Twenty," she said, and then laughed again, so hard that she had to stop to breathe. "Damn. You know how to make a girl feel good."

"I take it I'm a little off target then, lovely?"

"Only by a decade, sweetheart." She said with another chuckle.

"A decade?" Chibs' brain tumbled like a dryer full of laundry. A decade. Ten years.

"I'm 30. Nearly 31." She winked at him. "Damn. Twenty or twenty-one. My ego thanks you for that one." The coffee shop bell tinkled as a new customer entered, and Aoife stood up and took Chibs' face in her hands. "I'm going to be walking on air all day after a compliment like that." She kissed him on each cheek scar before swiping up the coffee pot and walking back to the register, still occasionally repeating the numbers Chibs had thrown out for her age.

Chibs felt gobsmacked. Her age had been his trump card to play against the desire he had felt since he first laid eyes on her. Because he wouldn't, couldn't be with a girl young enough to be his daughter. And now that barrier had evaporated like so much mist. Younger than him, yes, but 30, especially 30 running a business while taking care of a dying relative's affairs, was all kinds of things 20 wasn't. Thirty was a woman who'd done some living, been on her own, probably knew what she wanted and what she didn't. Thirty meant that there was a chance. He was simultaneously thrilled and terrified, contemplating this revelation. He didn't have an easy excuse anymore to brush off the feelings that bubbled to the surface whenever he saw her. He was still lost in thought ten minutes later when his phone buzzed to let him know that Piney was ready to go home from the hospital. Aoife was busy behind the counter with a busload of older women who had arrived, but he made sure she saw that he was leaving. She gave him a nod and a wink.


	5. The Phoenix

Chibs became a fixture at the coffee shop over the next few weeks. It wasn't always a conscious decision, but he ended up there more days than not, stopping in for coffee or a melt-in-your-mouth toffee cookie or even a shepherd's pie. He visited on his break or when he was out on a towing or repo run. Sometimes Juice or Half-Sack came with him, but usually he was alone, and that was honestly the way he preferred it. About once a week, he was lucky enough that he got his work at the garage done before Aoife locked the door at 3 pm. On those occasions, he got leftover baked goods and coffee for the club, but he got something else: a few minutes of her company, without other people. He helped her put chairs up on tables, take out trash, sweep the floor – any excuse to be near her.

One late afternoon, he found himself telling her about the time he caught Kerrianne coloring on their walls with crayon. His daughter hadn't been more than 2 years old, with a mop of dark curls and mocha skin, looking positively angelic as she colored in a butterfly just above the electrical outlet on the wall outside her room. Chibs had squatted down, confiscated the crayon box, and pointed at the wall sternly. "D'ya see that, little lassie? I dinnae ever want to see you do that again."

Chibs recalled the fierce stare he received as Kerrianne regarded him seriously. Then she stood up and said. "Come here, Daddy." She grabbed his hand and dragged him to a badly patched wall that he had punched after a particularly frustrating job that nearly got him arrested. Looking up at him, she stabbed her chubby little finger at the hole in the wall and instructed him, "Do you see that, Daddy? I don't ever want to see you do that again."

"And what," Chibs finished his story with a broad grin and a shrug, "could I say to that?" He was sitting on a stool next to the register while she was counting up the deposit a little behind him. They were both facing the front of the store, people watching through the big glass windows while they talked. Chibs had been fighting the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her, an urge easier to resist when he wasn't staring into her eyes.

Aoife was chuckling, her eyes sparkling. "Aye, she had you there. How old is she now?"

Chibs' smile faded and he bit his lip. "She's a teenager. She lives in Ireland with her mother. I don't get to see her," he explained. His throat always tightened when he tried to talk about Kerrianne.

Aoife slid off her stool and came up behind him. She put her arms around his neck so that her hands were splayed across his upper chest. She rested her chin on top of his head. "That has to be hard," she whispered sympathetically, and Chibs put his hands over hers.

"Aye, lass, that it is." Chibs felt warm and at peace in Aoife's arms and the minutes stretched on while they stayed in that position, providing wordless comfort. His thumb caressed her hand, and she responded by planting a kiss on the top of his head.

Chibs felt a vibration against his back. "Stupid bloody phone," Aoife muttered. She answered the phone with her left hand leaving her other arm entangled with Chib's hands. She made several affirmative noises and then she clenched Chibs' hands tighter. "Ok, I'll be there in about an hour. Yes, thank you," her voice quavered on the last words. Once she stowed the cell phone back in her pocket, Chibs asked if everything was alright. "My mum's giving the hospital staff a rough time. When she gets like this, no one else can calm her down. I need to finish up here and go to her."

Chibs slid around on the stool, so that Aoife now stood over him, her hands at the back of his neck. "Why's your mum in the hospital, lovely?

"My mum is mentally ill. I had to move her here when I came to take over Aunt Rois' business and she's not dealing well with it." Chibs could see the pain in her eyes.

He stood and took her hands in his. "Do you want me to come with you?" Aoife shook her head. "Is there something I can do to help here?" Aoife shook her head again. "Are you sure?"

"This isn't your place. I can't ask you to do things like this."

"Lass, I want to help you. I wouldn't offer if I didn't. Let me." He stared into her eyes for a long time before she relented.

"Ok. If you can take care of the dishes and sweeping the floor, that would be amazing. As long as you don't turn the knob as you pull the door shut, it will lock behind you. I'm going to lock up the deposit and change into something else. And, Chibs?"

"Yes, darlin'?"

"Thank you." She kissed the tip of his nose. "For being you."

Aoife dashed up the chairs to change. Chibs went into the kitchen. He stripped off his cut and button-down shirt and draped them over a chair, leaving him in a black wifebeater style tank. He filled the industrial sinks with wash water and rinse water and retrieved the coffee carafes that lined the one end of the counter.

As Chibs picked up the last carafe, he felt it shift in his hands and then the whole thing just fell apart. "Shit, shit, shit!" He tried to catch it, but only succeeded in dumping its entire contents on himself. Mercifully, it was only lukewarm. Chibs ripped off his coffee-soaked tank and grabbed a dishtowel to mop the worst off his jeans.

Aoife tore down the stairs. "Oh, my God, Chibs, are you okay?"

"Aye, I'm alright, lassie. Nothing damaged but my pride," Chibs assured her.

"I'm glad," Aoife nodded, and Chibs noticed that her eyes were devouring every inch of his now-visible muscular chest and arms. And then, in a fraction of a second, her gaze went from seductive to frightened. She stared for another second at the ink that stretched from his waistband to the bottom of his rib cage on his left side. "Chibs, what's that tattoo you have there?"

"That's a phoenix, love." He had gotten the phoenix, along with the word "saoirse" for freedom, back when he was young and stupid. The symbol represented one of the sects of the IRA he had once worked for, although the ancient bird rising from the ashes had come to mean something different to Chibs, as had the Gaelic word for freedom, so he kept them even though he wasn't IRA anymore.

Aoife clearly recognized the symbolism and was freaking out. Considering she was from Ireland, he shouldn't have been surprised she would know it, but the intensity of her reaction hinted at a deeper story. "I have to go," she breathed, sounding on the verge of a panic attack, and then she was out the door. Chibs considered following her, but then he heard the station wagon engine come to life and rumble down the street.

Chibs finished the chores he had volunteered for, mulling over Aoife's hasty departure with a frown. He wasn't quite sure what had happened, but he hated how upset she looked, and he wanted to apologize whether or not it was his fault. On his way back to the garage, he stopped at the florist and arranged for a delivery of a dozen white roses with red tips to the shop tomorrow. When the clerk asked what the message on the card should be, he considered for a moment, and then wrote, "To my Galway girl - If I've done anything to upset you, it was unintentional. I hope these flowers bring that beautiful smile back. Filip."

He paused for a smoke outside the florist to get his head back on straight. He had a run tonight. "Oh, Filip," Chibs said to himself. "You just sent flowers. Roses. What have you gotten yourself into?"


	6. Not enough whiskey in the world

When the club roared back into Charming after their run, Clay took them down the main drag. From a long way down the street, Chibs spotted Aoife outside the coffee shop, sweeping the porch steps. When she heard the motorcycle engines, her entire body tensed, and she flew back inside the coffee shop, leaving the door swinging in her wake. Chibs felt a stab of disappointment pierce his heart. He tried to convince himself that it was a coincidence, that their arrival just coincided with her remembering something important she had to do. But he couldn't do the same when he cruised by the coffee shop the next morning while she was standing in the window. Chibs' eyes met hers, and his heart broke as she drew back from the window with fear written on her face.

Things were suddenly heating up with the Sons' gun running, and Chibs was out of town on runs nearly as much as he was in, frequently alone or with just one other Son. Normally he took great pride in being chosen for these jobs because it was a sign of the great trust that Clay put in him – not just that he could keep secrets, but that he could think on his feet and not fly off the handle at the slightest hitch in a plan. But right now, with Aoife obviously upset, it was nothing but a pain in his ass. He wanted time to think about how to fix what had gone wrong, but after working on cars all day, Clay informed him that he and Juice were going out again tonight. One of the other chapters needed Juice's hacking expertise, so Chibs' primary role was protection for the younger Son.

Chibs was positively exhausted when he and Juice rode back into town again the next morning. Juice had been able to the do the job in record time, meaning that Chibs only got a few hours of sleep before they headed back. Juicey was still going strong, but he was younger and could go for a few days before he collapsed with exhaustion. Chibs was on autopilot when he rolled his bike into a parking space in front of the coffee shop, desperate for food and caffeine to keep him vertical. If he'd been more awake, his better judgment would have told him to give her space. But he was a sleep-deprived zombie.

Chibs saw the panicked look on Aoife's face when he walked in. She disappeared into the kitchen and then another woman took her place at the counter. Based on the dusting of flour on her clothes, Chibs assumed she was the seldom-seen Della, Aoife's baker and only employee. Aoife clearly didn't want to see him, not even long enough to sell him coffee. Dejected, Chibs paid for his coffee and a bag of muffins for the clubhouse and rode back.

Chibs could tell that Half-Sack and Juice were exchanging looks behind his back as he grumpily showed them the ins and outs of tuning up the rare vintage motorcycle that a rich guy from Lodi had brought in. He'd already lost his temper twice that morning. When he first got back to the clubhouse, he'd punched the wall of his dorm room hard enough that items in the adjoining rooms crashed to the floor. And then, just a few minutes ago when he was working on a car and simply could not get a lug nut off, he had slammed the wrench down so hard on the workbench that it made a dent. -

Chibs was just plain frustrated. Things with Aoife had been going well. That day in the coffee shop where she put his arms around him, he knew that she had broken down the brick walls and barbed wire he had erected to protect his heart. Had she not gotten that call from her mother, he had planned to invite her to take another ride on his bike and find out just how sweet her lips were. But now she was terrified of him, and the only clue he had as to why was an ancient tattoo, inked almost twenty years ago in a smoky room in Belfast while talk of bombs and guns filled the air around him. He was sure that the bloody fucking IRA was at the root of her fear, and he didn't have a clue what he could do about it.

"Chibs?" Juice finally said, and Chibs realized that he had been standing in the middle of the garage, a wrench in one hand and a bolt in the other, staring into space.

"Sorry, lads." He took a deep breath and then slammed the wrench onto the workbench again. "I need a smoke break."

The work day ended with Chibs still in a foul mood, and he stomped into the clubhouse to grab a beer. The only person inside was Piney. "Grab me another beer, Chibs?" the older man asked as Chibs stepped behind the bar.

Chibs slid open the beer cooler behind the bar and made a noise of disgust. "Nothing but weak American piss. Me and the prospect need to have a come-to-Jesus meeting about stocking the beer fridge." He put a cold Budweiser in front of Piney. "I'm going to go check in the back. I'm sure we at least have some cider."

Chibs went in the storeroom behind the bar. While he was in there with the door slightly ajar, he heard Tig walk by, whistling to himself. Then the clubhouse door slammed and Clay barked impatiently, "Where's Chibs?"

Tig snickered. "Probably down at the coffee shop trying to get himself that fine Irish pussy. He's really taken with that gash."

Chibs stepped out with a case of Harp. Tig had settled in on the other side of the corner of the bar so that he and Piney were catty-corner to one another. "Hey, Chibsy," Tig grinned. "You get a chance to see if the curtains match the drapes on that pussy you've been chasing?

Chibs dropped the case of beer on the bar and clenched his fists. He knew he'd been equally crude when they'd talked about crow eaters in the past, but every time Tig referred to Aoife as just pussy, Chibs ground his teeth. No matter where Aoife and Chibs did or didn't go, he was certain she would never be a sweetbutt, hanging around the club fetching, sucking and fucking for anyone with a cut. "Don't call her that," Chibs growled.

"Call her what? Pussy?" Tig's eyes were wild, a sure sign he was itching for a fight. "Ok. How about gash? No, I know, cunt!"

Chibs yanked the sergeant at arms off his bar stool by the front of his shirt. "Say that shit about her one more fucking time, Tig, and I swear I'll –"

"You'll what, Chibs?" Tig taunted him. "What are you going to do? Come on, take a swing! Defend the honor of that fine Irish pussy!"

Chibs' first punch landed square on Tig's cheek. Tig retaliated with a pair of punches to Chibs' chin.

"You two, cut that shit out! NOW!" Clay's voice boomed. Chibs hesitated at the President's order, giving Tig the perfect opportunity to knock him to the ground. Then there were running footsteps, and Jax, Juice, and Bobby were all hauling Tig backwards while the Prospect helped Chibs up. Clay was pissed. "That's enough of this shit. I'd take you out to the ring, but we've got business. Church, everyone, now."

Chibs was almost grateful when Clay announced they had been asked to do another job that night, because it meant he would be busy. One of their other chapters needed the squeeze put on a judge to rule a questionably conducted search inadmissible and therefore ensure that there was no case against one of their guys, but they were under surveillance. The plan was for the chapter under surveillance to throw a giant party and invite as many other chapters as possible. The home chapter's members would all stay clearly visible outside, and law enforcement would be helpless to keep track of all the bikers in the area. As the mother chapter, SAMCRO would complete the intimidation job.

After the club had agreed to do the job, Clay said, "Now because we will need the van, two of you won't get to ride. And I want to thank Chibs and Tig for volunteering themselves for that duty by brawling in the clubhouse. You two have the entire drive to Oregon and back to work shit out."

Tig and Chibs sniped at each other the entire ride up and during the entire job. Chibs knew they were pissing Clay off but they just couldn't seem to stop. Tig was brooding over a call he'd gotten from his daughters' mother and ready to fight at the drop of a hat, and Chibs' anger and frustration overrode his normal tendency to let Tig's trash talking roll off his back.

When they made it back to the brother chapter's clubhouse, Clay's frown was deep, but all he did was cross his arms and glare at Tig and Chibs before curtly instructing them all to get some sleep in the guest dorm rooms. Chibs knew Clay's look – it was predatory. He would wait for his moment to confront them. That moment came after they'd all slept.

Chibs was sitting alone at the bar when Clay approached. Around them, the sweetbutts and hangarounds for the chapter were prepping for that night's welcome back party for the club brother Tig and Chibs' mission had gotten released. The SAMCRO crew was staying for that party, as Clay had some business to conduct. Clay took the cigar out of his mouth and put his hand on Chibs' shoulder. 'So do you want to explain to me why the fuck you are acting like a hormonal teenage girl? The shit that happened today – I expect that from Tig. Not from you." Clay puffed on his cigar. "So Gemma told me that there's this Irish chick and I'm guessing that's what has you all fucked up. That right?"

Chibs sipped his beer and nodded. "That about sums it up."

"You fucking her?" Clay asked gruffly.

Chibs shook his head. "I think I'm fallin' in love with her." Clay raised his eyebrows.

"We've all been there, man. You think Gemma didn't fuck with my head when we first got together? But it's time for you to either fuck her or fuck someone else until you forget about her. I got you these. Consider them my contribution to the cause. Get your shit together." Clay put a brown bag on the bar and walked away. Chibs opened it and found a box of condoms. He bit his lip. Maybe Clay was right. Whatever Aoife had felt for him a few days ago, she had made it very clear that she wanted no more to do with him, and he had spent the past few days feeling like shit thinking of her. Fuck it. He was going to get wasted and forget that Aoife McIntyre ever walked into his life. Chibs tilted his bottle of beer back and poured the rest of it down his throat.

"You want something else, baby?" A woman with tight-laced corset style top and black curly hair leaned across the bar, giving Chibs a look at her generous cleavage.

"Aye. Something strong, lass. I want to drink until I forget my own name."

The sweetbutt sauntered around the bar with a tray holding two shot glasses, salt shaker, lime slices, and a bottle of tequila. Chibs was doing three or four shots for every one she did, and soon he was licking the salt off the top of her breasts before tossing back the shot.

"What's your name, there, lass?" Chibs growled after about a dozen shots. The room was getting delightfully fuzzy, and he felt warm and happy. Chibs could hold a lot of liquor, and his brain stopped functioning long before his body did.

"Reba," she purred, pouring him another shot, brushing her tight ass against his hand.

"You're a damn fine looking woman," he informed her. "And you sure know how to take care of a man."

"Thanks, baby." She planted herself between his legs. "Is there anything else you need taken care of tonight?" She whispered seductively as her fingers danced up his thigh, and he instantly went hard. Then her long nails pulled down his zipper. She pulled him to the edge of the barstool so that she could pull him out of his jeans.

"I'm not much for an audience, lass. Let's find somewhere private to finish this up." Five minutes later, Chibs had her up against the wall of the guest dorm room that the club had put him up in. She was screaming and scratching like a wildcat, which only spurred Chibs on. When he finally came, he grunted a name and shuddered. He held her there, both panting for a moment before he put her back down on unsteady legs. "That was just what I needed, lass," he told her appreciatively, but Reba turned her eyes from his. He felt her put her feet on the ground and start to pull her skirt back down, but she still kept her eyes averted. Even drunk as he was, her sudden discomfort with him was palpable. He buckled up his jeans before he picked up his hand and tipped her chin up so he could look into her eyes. "I didn't hurt ya, did I?" Chibs sometimes liked things rough, but he prided himself that there was never a sweetbutt who was afraid of him – unlike some of his brothers (Tig).

"No, you didn't hurt me." Reba assured him. She stared at him for a long minute. "If you don't want me anymore, I'd best get out to the bar and check on the party."

"For Christ's sake, lass, what's gotten into you?" Chibs asked. "What did I do?" He realized that the tequila was making him louder than usual. His voice softened. "I don't like to hurt women."

Reba looked down at her hands. "I've just never had a guy call me by his old lady's name while we were doing it. It reminded me of my ex – he used to wait until we were getting down and dirty and then yell out the name of whatever whore he was screwing behind my back."

"Then your ex is a right bastard," Chibs told her. "But, honey, I don't have an old lady."

Reba smiled faintly. "The name Aoife mean anything to you? Cause that's the name you were screaming."

"Oh, Mother of Christ," Chibs cursed, his buzz evaporating. "Bloody fucking hell." He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned a wry smile on Reba. "Apologies, lass. I'm figuring some shit out. But none of it has anything to do with you. You were still fucking amazing."


	7. Reconciliation

Chibs was grateful that Tig was subdued the next morning and willing to drive. Chibs had slept little and then spent the early dawn hours writing a long letter to Aoife, explaining why he had the tattoo that had precipitated the whole mess. He knew that if he gave up now, without trying to salvage what he could have with her, he would regret it for the rest of his life. Chibs had enough regrets already. He didn't want to add Aoife to that tally, and when he got back to Charming, he was going to try to see her one last time. If she refused, he would leave the letter to explain himself.

In addition to the letter, Chibs brought two other gifts – or were they peace offerings? – a book of Robert Burns poetry he had already bought for her birthday and a dozen red roses. He parked his bike around the corner from the coffee shop so that he wouldn't startle her. Using his side view mirror, Chibs smoothed the wrinkles in his shirt and straightened his cut. He combed his hair and hung his sunglasses on the front of his shirt. To seem less threatening, he secured his gun in a hidden locking compartment under his bike seat. He had a blade or two on him in case of emergency. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tucked the letter inside the book of poetry. He carried the roses in his other hand.

It was 2:00 on a Tuesday afternoon, an hour before closing, a usually slow time at the shop. Chibs walked up the steps, and froze. The "closed" sign had been turned in the window so recently that it was still swinging, but the lighted sign over the door was still on. A chair near the register was knocked on its side. He tried the doorknob – unlocked. Aoife religiously checked the windows and doors when she closed every afternoon – he had watched her do so many times. The hairs on the back of Chibs' neck prickled as his intuition screamed that something was wrong. Chibs set his book and roses down silently on the front steps and slid inside the door quietly. He was about to call out Aoife's name when he heard it – voices too low to be intelligible in the office, but one was definitely Aoife, and she sounded terrified. Then there was a thump and she cried out.

Chibs slipped swiftly through the shop to the office area. The thug had Aoife backed up against the wall with a knife to her throat. She had a number of slashes dripping blood down her arms, and there were marks on her neck where she had been manhandled. Aoife's eyes widened as she saw Chibs.

Chibs put a finger to his lips and pulled a switchblade from his pocket. The blade barely made a sound as it popped out, and then Chibs commanded. "Put the lass down." The thug turned his torso at the sudden noise, his blade leaving Aoife's throat, and she brought her knee up into his groin. As the goon was crouching in pain she pushed him away hard and darted left, towards the desk. Before he could consider following her, Chibs was between them. The goon sneered at Chibs and slashed suddenly with a second blade, catching Chibs' side.

"Chibs," Aoife hissed behind him. "Step aside." Chibs was too focused on keeping himself between the foe in front of him and her, and he heard but didn't register what she was saying. "Chibs," she repeated. "Filip!" His real name startled him, and Chibs glanced at her and then deftly stepped right. The thug, misperceiving his moment, went for Chibs and looked surprised when Aoife fired three shots into his chest. As he dropped, Chibs looked at Aoife in respectful surprise.

"I didn't know you had it in you, lass."

"You – what are you – why are you -?" Aoife couldn't form a complete sentence. Chibs dropped the switchblade and crushed her body to his chest, engulfing her in his arms. "You saved my life."

"Thank God you're safe, lass." Chibs looked down at her and kissed her forehead, nose, and cheeks.

"You saved me," Aoife repeated, dumbfounded. "You - you aren't here to kill me?"

"To kill you? Why on earth would I be here to kill – dear God, lass, that's why you've been so frightened of me? You think the IRA sent me to kill you? Lass, I'm not IRA anymore. Haven't been for a long time." Aoife was crying tears of relief too hard to speak, and Chibs made soothing noises into her hair as he continued to hold her close. "Love, why would you think that? Why would they be trying to kill you?"

Aoife swallowed hard before she wiped away the tears on her face. Her azure blue eyes searched Chibs'. Finally, she answered his question. "Because I killed two of them."


	8. Kissing scars

Chibs blinked. "You're going to need to repeat that, lass."

"Two members of the IRA beat my brother to death. So I killed them. When I saw your tattoo…" Aoife's teary eyes drifted down to Chib's left side toward the ink they both knew was there, and her eyes went wide. "Oh, my God, Chibs, you're bleeding." Chibs followed her gaze. His button down shirt was wet with blood. Aoife's expression cleared, she wiped the tears from her face, and her back straightened as she took charge of the situation. "Come on." She grabbed a clean kitchen towel. "Hold that on it." Chibs obediently applied pressure to the wound. She then pulled his right arm over her shoulders and put her arm around his back, careful not to touch his injured left side. She dragged him up the stairs at the back of the shop into a small apartment. Chibs registered that the place was in significant disarray, with boxes and packing materials strewn about. He did his best to keep his rubbery legs functioning until she pulled him through her bedroom and into a small bathroom decorated in greens and purples. She sat him on the closed toilet and set to work.

Aoife was efficient; Chibs had to give her that. She stripped his cut from him and tossed it over the shower curtain rail while Chibs fumbled with the buttons on his mechanic's shirt. She took over with the buttons and tossed the shirt in the shower, and before he could even protest that he'd do it himself, his blood-saturated undershirt was off. She leaned him back a little so she could get a good look at the knife wound. "It's not too deep, but it's a long slash. Keep pressure on it while I –" They both froze as they both heard sirens in the distance. "You stay here and don't take that towel off until I get back. Pressure on the wound, got it? I'll deal with the police. I just need to know one thing – were you here?"

Even with his head fuzzy, Chibs caught her drift. "Probably easier if I wasn't, lass."

"Then you're not here. I'll be back as quick as I can." She leaned to kiss his scarred cheek. He brought his right hand up to caress her face, and then he was pressing his lips to hers in a sweet, brief kiss.

She closed the door softly behind her and then hurried down the stairs. By the time the cop cars screeched up outside, she was standing at the door of the shop, pretending to bite nervously at her nails. Chief Unser approached as she opened the door. "You all right, ma'am?" he called out. "We got a report of shots fired.

"Oh, thank God someone called. A man came in and tried to rob me. He had a knife. I think I killed him when I shot him. He's over by the register." she answered with a quavering voice.

"It's all right, honey," Unser patted her on the hand. "Just step behind me while I check on him and make sure he didn't bring any friends. Oh, and take these," Unser glanced behind him to confirm Hale was occupied and handed over the book of poetry and roses. Unser had Aoife remain in the doorway while he checked the shop. He motioned her inside after he checked it. "Looks like he was alone, Miss…"

"McIntyre," Aoife finished for him.

Hale walked into the shop at that moment, and approached. "Excuse me, Miss McIntyre." Unser kept his voice low, but Aoife could still hear when he informed Hale, "We got one DB. Looks like the bastard tried to rob the wrong shop today. Rest of the shop's clear. Call the coroner. I'll take Miss McIntyre's statement." Unser turned back to Aoife with a reassuring smile. "I'm the Chief of Police, Wayne Unser. Is there somewhere you'd feel more comfortable talking? Away from the body?"

"We can go up to my apartment. It's upstairs." She led the chief on the same path she had brought Chibs on maybe 20 minutes before, giving the body a wide berth. Aoife carried the roses and book up with her, making sure to stomp and speak loudly so that Chibs would know they were in the apartment.

"Thanks, honey," the chief said as he ambled up the stairs to her little apartment. He settled in at the kitchen table.

Aoife needed a minute to mentally rewrite the incident and rehearse it while leaving out Chibs. She stalled. "I need some tea to calm my nerves. Can I make you something, Chief?"

"That'd be nice." Aoife put the kettle on and set the roses up in a vase. "I didn't know Rois wasn't still running the shop," Unser commented.

"My aunt has stage 4 lung cancer. She's been admitted to hospice."

"Oh, hell, I'm sorry. Let me know where and I'll send her some flowers."

Once the hot water was ready and tea bags had steeped, Aoife sat down at the kitchen table with the Chief and gave her statement. Keeping as close to the truth as she dared, she explained how she had been startled by a burglar. He had been momentarily distracted by a loud noise out on the street, and she had taken advantage of that moment to knee him in the balls and get to the gun her aunt had always kept in the office. When he pulled out a second knife, she shot him.

Chibs had heard the Chief and Aoife come upstairs, and he discovered that if he listened closely at the vent in the bathroom, he could hear them. He tried to lean over to listen, and ended up slumping to the floor, his back resting against the wall just next to the vent. Aoife was a storyteller, Chibs conceded. If he hadn't been there himself, he would have believed every line she was feeding the Chief.

The chief finished sipping his tea, and then he stood, closing his notebook. "Well, Miss McIntyre, this is one of the clearest cases of self-defense I've ever seen. If I need anything else from you, I'll call. You want a ride to the hospital to get those cuts on your arm looked at?" He offered.

Aoife had forgotten she was even injured. "Oh, no," she assured the chief. "They're just scratches. I've got everything I need to treat them here."

"We're probably going to be in the shop for a few more hours. Even once the coroner collects the body, the forensics team will need to release the scene, and then you'll need to have it cleaned." Unser pulled a business card from his breast pocket. "I recommend these folks." Aoife put the card on the counter. "I'm going to ask the boys to increase the number of patrols over the next few days. Maybe the boyfriend who dropped off the roses can stay here with you tonight, just to make sure you feel safe? Pity he wasn't here when that dirtbag broke in." The Chief winked at Aoife. "You can lock that door down to the shop while we're working. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

Aoife locked the door at the top of the steps and waited for the footfalls of the Chief to recede downstairs. She then opened the bathroom door and gasped at Chibs slumped against the wall.

He opened his eyes half-mast. "It's alright, lass. It was just more comfortable to sit here while you two talked," Chibs assured her sleepily. As a former medic, he knew full well that he wasn't in his right mind: he had to be in shock, the adrenaline had left his system, he hadn't eaten in hours, and he had lost a good bit of blood. But being in shock, it was hard to care. As Aoife helped him back up and began to clean the cut, he could smell the aroma of coffee that was infused in her hair and clothing, and he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and smiling a little.

"You're in a good mood for a guy with a slash across his side," Aoife teased.

"Any man with you for a nurse would be in a good mood, darling," Chibs flirted lazily. He tried to look at her pretty face, and pitched forward.

"Whoa, there!" Aoife caught him. "You need to lie down while I finish this." She forced him to put his arms around her shoulders. Aoife managed to get him from the bathroom back into the bedroom, depositing him on the queen-size bed. She brought a towel in and put it under his left side.

"What're you doing, sweetheart? I need to get back to the garage," he mumbled, his eyes closing.

"You're not going anywhere right now, Chibs," she chided him. "I'll call the garage and let them know what happened, but you're staying here." She leaned over and again kissed his scarred cheek.

She pulled her cell phone out of her apron pocket and was ready to dial when Chibs drawled lazily, his eyes closed, "You kiss my scars."

"I do," she agreed. "Scars make us who we are."

"No woman has ever done that before. You're…special, Aoife." His voice trailed off as he passed out.


	9. A Kiss

Chibs awoke to the smell of food. "Christ, that smells fucking delicious," he murmured as Aoife came into the room with two hot shepherd's pies. Aoife sat down on the other side of the bed as he gobbled down the food.

"Just before you drifted off earlier, you mentioned that no one else has ever kissed your scars before," Aoife began, tracing the design on the bedspread with her finger and sneaking little glances at Chibs, who had set his empty plate on the nightstand closest to him and was now looking curiously at her. She looked almost shy.

"Aye. Most women find them…off-putting."

"My husband had scars like yours. Had them since he was 16. He gave himself a crude IRA tattoo, and the unionist boys in the neighborhood decided to teach him a lesson. He felt like the scars ruined him, like everyone he ever met was staring at them." As she was talking, she picked up a framed photo from other nightstand and handed it to Chibs. At the center of the smiling wedding party were Aoife and a young man who did indeed have a pattern of scars similar to Chibs'. "Every day of our married life, I would kiss his scars to remind him that I loved every inch of him and thought he was handsome."

"Are ye divorced?" Chibs asked, handing back the photo. She certainly didn't wear a wedding band. Then again, Chibs thought for a painful second, neither did he.

"No. Widowed. We were barely married three years. That feels like a lifetime ago," she said with a sigh, replacing the framed photo and then scooting over so that their hips were mere inches apart. She lapsed into silence, and Chibs placed his hand over hers on the bedspread. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. "How are you feeling?" Aoife finally asked.

"I've been better," Chibs said with a smile. He looked down at his exposed abdomen and his jaw dropped. His wound was held together with a series of precise, even stitches. "You stitched me up while I was passed out?"

"It wasn't my intention to do it without you being aware, but once you passed out, you were out. Don't worry; I know what I'm doing."

"I can see that. Those stitches are damn near perfect." Chibs replied, impressed.

"Adam was a doctor. We had a lot of IRA friends who couldn't go to hospital. Wanted by the government and all that. Some weeks our house was more like an infirmary than a home." Chibs assumed that Adam was the deceased husband with the Glasgow smile. Then he cocked his head.

"Lass, I'm confused. Earlier, you said that you killed two members of the IRA for murdering your brother. But just now, it sounds like you and your husband were IRA."

"You're not confused. We were. My family was all IRA. That's why my brother's death cut so deep." Chibs' eyes met Aoife's, and her eyes burned with righteous anger even as they filled with tears. "We never betrayed the IRA. The IRA betrayed us." Chibs reached for Aoife and pulled her to him. Her arms went around his neck and she buried her face in his shoulder while she cried softly. Chibs ran his hands through her silky black curls and murmured soothing words. They sat like that until her sobs subsided. In a small voice, Aoife finally said, "I'm sorry. It's only been a few months. The wounds are still raw."

Chibs kissed the top of her head. "You never have to apologize to me for having feelings, lovely." While she cried, Chibs had focused on the unevenness of her breathing and the pitiful sound of her sobs, putting every ounce of effort into being warm and comforting. Now that she was calmer, the places where her skin touched his were on fire. With every inhale, he breathed in the scent of coffee that perfumed her skin and hair. And, sweet Mary, Mother of Christ, she had settled herself on his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs and her arms wrapped around his neck. He wanted to crush her to him, to stake a claim on her body with his hands and lips and teeth, but she seemed delicate and fragile in this moment. She shifted her weight on his legs and he knew she had to feel how rock hard he was. He stared into her eyes and watched the flickering emotions: uncertainty, nervousness, but also, he was fairly certain, desire. "Lass, I want to kiss you," he breathed.

She blushed and smiled at him, and they closed the short distance between their lips. Her lips were soft and full, and he could feel her smiling. She moved her hands to cup his face, and he tangled his fingers in her hair. Chibs let her guide the kiss, and soon he felt her tongue press for entrance into his mouth. He met it with his own, and then Aoife's hands were running through his hair. He opened his eyes when her lips pulled away from his, only to close them again as she kissed her way up his jaw and then down his neck. Her lips and tongue moved slowly, sensuously, and he fisted one hand in her hair while the other slid down to curl possessively around her hip.

He flipped her over onto her back then, using his ropey arm muscles to hold him above her while his lips began their assault on her collarbone. He kissed his way to the hollow of her throat, relishing the soft whines that escaped her lips as he licked and kissed her creamy skin, using the tip of his tongue to dot every freckle. Aoife brought her hands to his chest and began lightly sliding her nails across his flesh. Chibs' pleasure evaporated in a split-second as one of her nails scraped the topmost stitch, and he hissed in pain.

A horrified look spread across Aoife's features. "Oh, fuck! Filip, I'm so sorry." She propped herself up and examined the stitches. "I don't think I damaged the stitches, but I feel so stupid. I should have known better. I –" Chibs silenced her with a brief kiss on the lips.

"No harm done, lass. The pain was temporary. I don't regret anything that just happened."

"I've wanted to kiss you since I first saw you in the garage that day," she confessed. "It's just – let's – let's not rush. I have a lot of baggage to get through."

Chibs couldn't deny that part of him wanted to rip Aoife's clothes off right then, but that irrational part of his brain could be ignored. The kiss had only verified what some unconscious part of him had already known: he would wait as long as Aoife needed because she was worth waiting for. "As slow as you want to go, love," Chibs assured her. "I could kiss you all day."

Aoife blushed. "Maybe some day you'll get the chance. But for now, I'm going to insist that you get more rest. You're still pale."

Chibs considered arguing, but then Aoife pushed him gently back on his pillow, scooted up against his right side, and laid her head down on his chest. "Aye, ma'am," he agreed with a soft smile, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of her body curled up next to his. He put one hand behind his head and let the other one rest in her hair, twisting curls around his finger until he drifted back to sleep.


	10. Subtle as a Freight Train

Chibs woke to the sound of the apartment door closing and hushed voices. He listened for a minute and then identified the voice other than Aoife's – Gemma. As he listened, Gemma spoke. "Nice work you did with the cops. Unser told me that if it hadn't been for the roses and book of Scottish poetry on the doorstep, he would have bought your story hook, line, and sinker."

Chibs could tell from the sound of her voice that Aoife had shrugged. "I didn't know Chibs had them when he got here. Otherwise I would have taken care of that little detail."

"Wouldn't worry too much about it, baby girl. You can trust Unser to keep his mouth shut most of the time. Hale's the one you have to watch out for, and from the way he was talking when I ran into him in the grocery store, he doesn't suspect a thing. He was worried about how having to shoot a man was going to affect a pretty little thing like you. You must have really charmed him." There was a pause. "Probably doesn't hurt that you have a nice rack." A smile played across Chibs' features. Classic Gemma, right there. He hoped that Aoife wasn't too offended. There were a few more words, too low for Chibs to hear, and then Gemma's heels clicked on the hardwood floor and her voice was outside the door. "

"He was sleeping when I checked on him just before you got here," Aoife cautioned. Chibs closed his eyes. Aoife had to learn to deal with Gemma to be with him, and he wanted to give her a chance to assert herself with the older woman on home turf. If he made his consciousness known, it would change the playing field. He heard Aoife step in front of Gemma, and peeking through his eyelids, he realized she was blocking Gemma's way. "I don't want you to disturb him." The two women stared one another down, both standing with their arms crossed in the doorway.

Finally, Gemma relented - somewhat. "Look, Mama Bear, I will be quiet as a little mouse, but I'm not leaving until I see Chibs." Aoife stood in her way another minute longer before stepping aside to let Gemma in the room. Gemma put a duffel bag on the dresser and then pulled the chair from the vanity over next to the bed. She put her hand over Chibs'. "You fixed him up pretty good," Gemma said in a hushed tone.

"You're welcome," Aoife said. Chibs hid a smile. Some people didn't understand that Gemma didn't use the words "thank you," but Aoife seemed to have already figured it out. That exchange diffused the tension. "Would you like some coffee or tea?"

"Just some water, baby girl." Chibs heard Aoife leave the room. "Ok, Chibs, you can stop playing possum now," Gemma said with a smirk. "I'm not fooled, and I don't think your nursemaid is either."

Chibs opened his eyes and gave Gemma a grin. "I didn't want to interrupt the pissing contest."

"No, you wanted to witness it," Gemma corrected him. "Well, it's over for now." Gemma glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. "You always did have a thing for spitfires. She's tougher than she looks."

"Aye," Chibs agreed. He struggled into a sitting position.

"So how are you feeling, baby?" Gemma asked.

"Sore. Hungry. Still a little weak."

"He lost a lot of blood," Aoife added from the doorway. She carried a tray with a glass of ice water and two steaming mugs of tea. "You're going to feel weak for a few days, sweetheart." She put tea tray down on the nightstand.

"Stay home tomorrow," Gemma instructed. "I'll split your jobs between Tig, Juice, and the Prospect."

"Gemma, I'll be fine," Chibs protested.

"You haven't taken a sick day in five years, Chibs. You're taking one. It's your choice whether you take one the hard way or the easy way."

Aoife snickered. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I'm really curious. How does one take a sick day the hard way?"

"That's when this Scottish fool shows up for work tomorrow and I have the other guys at the garage bodily carry him to his room and tie him to his bed." Gemma sipped her water. "Not that I think Chibs has an aversion to being tied to the bed, but he'd prefer if Juice and Tig weren't the ones doing it." Chibs choked on his tea. "Maybe you could find out since the coffee shop will be closed tomorrow," Gemma added with a wink, and both Chibs' and Aoife's faces went red. Then Gemma's cell phone rang, and she answered it. She murmured in agreement a few times and then ended her call. "Ok, baby, I've got to go. Jax needs me. You need anything; you don't hesitate to call. Gemma leaned over to give Chibs a kiss on the cheek and receive one in return. She put her purse over her shoulder and then turned to Aoife. "Walk me out?"

"Thank you for bringing Chibs' things over," Aoife said when they reached the door.

"Are you in this for the long haul?" Gemma asked suddenly.

"I've only known him a few weeks. But he's definitely something special." Chibs wondered if Aoife knew how well sound carried in her apartment.

"He's a complicated man," Gemma said.

"I'm a complicated woman," Aoife countered. "Uncomplicated people are boring."

"And the club? Can you handle that he's a Son?" Gemma challenged.

Aoife had heard a fair bit about the Sons of Anarchy in the past few weeks waiting tables at the shop. A lot of people treated her apron like an invisibility cloak – if she was wearing it, they couldn't be bothered to notice her. Most conversations about the MC were thinly veiled speculation, but there were some common threads. Everyone was pretty certain the Sons were involved in criminal activity, but no one seemed to be quite sure what that was. And people generally respected them, even if they didn't like them, because the Sons kept drug dealers and other criminal elements from gaining a foothold in Charming. "I don't know much about the club," Aoife answered evasively.

"I'm giving you a friendly piece of advice, sweetheart. You love the man; you learn to love the club." Chibs had heard Gemma use those same words with at least two dozen women over the years. Most of them never learned to love the club and, in turn, left the man. Chibs growled in his head at Gemma. Jesus, why was she bringing this up so soon? It had only been six hours since he'd convinced Aoife he wasn't an IRA assassin here to kill her. Discussing love seemed like jumping the gun. Was she trying to scare Aoife off? "If you can't, this whole thing – it doesn't work. You might as well walk away from Chibs now and save you both the heartache."

"I think I can learn," Aoife replied, her voice defiant. "But aren't we rushing things a little asking me if I can love the club when I don't even know if I love him?"

"I don't know that I am. I don't usually have this conversation so early, but you're the one who already lied to the cops for him and has him recovering in your bed from a knife wound he got protecting your ass. How uncertain are you really, baby girl?" Gemma replied. Chibs suspected Aoife said something after that, but he couldn't hear it. "Sunday night is what we call a family dinner. The entire club is invited, and they bring their wives or girlfriends and their kids. Be there at six."

Once Gemma left, Aoife didn't come back into the bedroom right away. Chibs heard the clatter of dishes and then she came into the room with a microwave TV dinner. "I heard you tell Gemma you were hungry again. It's just a microwave dinner. Sorry it's not fancier."

"I'm no gourmet, lass." He patted the spot next to him on the bed. "I'd sure like it if you'd sit down beside me." Once Aoife had settled in, he spoke between bites. "Sorry about Gemma. I should have warned you. She's a damn freight train."

"She's not so bad. She reminds me of Aunt Rois."

Chibs remembered something from the conversation that surprised him. "Why did Gemma say your shop would be closed tomorrow?"

"Oh, aye. The cleaners that the Chief recommended were busy, so Gemma put me in touch with someone she recommended. They couldn't be here until tomorrow, so I guess I have a day off. I already called Della off, even if I did have to give her the day with pay to do it. I don't even know what I'm going to do with myself. I haven't had a day off since I moved here."

Chibs bit his lip. Gemma had hinted at it, but Aoife hadn't commented. "Since I have the day off tomorrow and you have a free day tomorrow, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to spend the day together?" He fumbled for his words, feeling like a teenage boy asking a girl to a dance.

"Chibs, are you asking me out on a date?" Aoife asked, smiling from ear to ear.

Chibs' face colored a little. He was not a blushing man, but Aoife was changing all the rules he thought he knew about his heart. "Aye. I think I am. I haven't been on a date in about 20 years, so I'm pretty rusty at it, but I can't think of anyone I'd rather spend tomorrow with."

Aoife blushed back, and Chibs felt less self-conscious. "Okay, I will go on a date with you on two conditions."

"And those are, my lovely?"

"Number one is we need to go see Aunt Rois tomorrow. I want her to meet you, and I don't know how much time she has left. Number two is that you have to take it easy. We're taking my car. No bikes."

Chibs tried to hide his surprise. She wanted him to meet her aunt. He had heard a lot of Aunt Rois stories in the preceding weeks, and he didn't think there was anyone alive in the world Aoife loved more, including her own mother. And she wanted to make sure her aunt met him before she died. Chibs heart soared. "Your wish is my command, lass," he whispered as he placed another sweet kiss on her lips.


	11. The truth will set you free

Chibs Telford had woken up a lot of places in his life: on random couches, in seedy motels, in jail cells, behind dumpsters. Because he never knew what he might find, waking up was not the leisurely experience that people who lead more secure lives enjoy. He came out of slumber with every sense on high alert, and only when he had established where he was and who was with him would he breathe easily. Before he even opened his eyes that morning, his nose filled with the scent of coffee. There was someone warm pressed against him, the source of the coffee smell. He was up on his right side, with Aoife's back against his chest. His left arm was curled protectively around her. Her left arm followed the same path, and their hands were entwined and pressed against her sternum. He propped his head up on his right hand, trying not to jostle her while his eyes surveyed the scene. She had fallen asleep wearing her clothes from the day before. A few black curls spilled over her freckled face, and the worry lines that framed her eyes were almost gone. He wanted to memorize everything about this moment, to lock it away and treasure it in his heart in case his world went to shit in the blink of an eye again. He hadn't known to do that when he was a younger man. He knew there must have been moments like this with Fi – and then he stopped that line of thinking. Fiona was his past. Aoife was here, now.

And she wanted him to meet her beloved aunt today as part of their "date," Chibs thought nervously. He wanted to make a good impression. He pressed a kiss to Aoife's hair and then another to her shoulder as he disentangled his hand from hers. She shifted as he pulled away, and he whispered, "'S alright, love. You sleep. I need to take care of things before we go out today." He dropped another kiss on her cheek while he pulled a blanket over her. She smiled in her sleep and snuggled into her pillow.

He opened the duffel bag to see what Gemma had brought him to wear. On top was his best shirt, a silvery-gray dress shirt with faint vertical stripes. It had been a Christmas present from Gemma and Clay three years ago and came out only on special occasions. Chibs thanked his lucky stars that Gemma had thought spending a day with Aoife was a special occasion. He dug underneath that shirt to come up with a plain black t-shirt. Scribbling a quick note to Aoife that he would be back within the hour, Chibs shrugged his cut onto his shoulders and let himself out of the apartment with the spare key she kept next to the door.

His first stop was Floyd's barbershop. While Aoife seemed to favor his currently shaggy hair, Chibs figured a trim couldn't hurt with a good first impression. After that, he stopped at the flower shop for something to take on their visit. He settled on a little potted sweetheart rose bush with yellow blooms. As he predicted, he was back in just under an hour.

Chibs heard running water and Aoife's voice singing some barely distinguishable tune. Leaving the sweetheart roses on the kitchen table, he walked back to the bedroom. Intending to give a quick shout so that Aoife would know he was back, he headed for the bathroom door. "I'm back, love," Chibs called out, and then his heart raced. The bathroom door was open, and he could see the outline of Aoife's body through the frosted glass shower door. Desire flooded Chibs' veins. He wanted so desperately to shuck his clothes and join her in the shower, but that would be the precise opposite of not rushing things that she had requested. He forced himself to lie back down on the bed and began cleaning under his fingernails with one of his knives. He couldn't help but keep glancing towards the shower, watching the outlines of her body with a fierce hunger.

"I'll be done in a minute," Aoife answered. The water stopped, and she stepped out, wrapping a towel around herself, but not before Chibs got a glance at her entire naked body. Aoife turned red, a flush that crept from her upper chest to her neck and then finally to her cheeks. "There's no fan in this bathroom so I usually shower with the door open. I didn't think about you being here. I'm sorry."

"You can't possibly be apologizing for being beautiful. Because the only thing that open door did was let me see just how fucking gorgeous you are," Chibs said as he rose from the bed and sauntered over to her. He wanted to honor her request not to rush things, but he wanted Aoife to know just how much he desired her. He had to touch her. He put his hands on her bare shoulders and kissed her hard. She responded by putting her free hand on the back of his neck, pulling him further into the kiss. When they needed to breath again, he pulled away only far enough to rest his forehead against hers.

"I called hospice so that Aunt Rois would be expecting us," she said softly. "We had better finish getting ready."

"Aye," Chibs breathed. He kissed her once more before she exited the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind her. He stripped quickly and turned the shower on, grateful that she had put unscented shampoo and plain soap next to her shower gel. It wasn't until he was wrapping a towel around his waist that he realized his duffel was sitting on the closed toilet. She must have snuck in while he was showering. He wondered if she had lingered and watched his naked body through the frosted glass the way he had watched hers.

When Chibs emerged from the bathroom fully dressed except for his cut, Aoife was pulling her hair into a loose bun. She wore a raspberry-colored halter-top dress with a black shrug. Chibs walked up behind her and kissed her neck. "You look nervous, darlin'. Afraid your aunt won't like me?"

She gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "No, that's not it."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder. "Then what's wrong, love?"

Aoife leaned back on him and closed her eyes for a minute. "I need you to help me with something when we go see Aunt Rois today." Her eyes met his in the mirror and he cocked an eyebrow upward. "You and Aunt Rois both deserve the truth about what happened to my brother. And what I did about it. She knows Thomas was murdered, but I've spared her the details. And all I've told her about the men who killed him is that they've been taken care of." Chibs nodded, uncertain of what help she needed with this. "She needs to know. I can't tell her these things sitting in a hospital bed. Please help me take her out somewhere."

"Of course, love." He hid his surprise: Chibs had thought getting this story out of her would take a lot more time to build up her trust.

The worry lines around Aoife's eyes decreased by about half then, and Chibs held her until she said," I don't know what I did to deserve someone like you," and turned to give him a kiss.

"That makes two of us, lass. I don't know what an old biker like me did to deserve a woman like you."

Aoife was quiet on her way to the hospice. She fed a CD into the player and soft, traditional Irish music drifted out from the speakers. "I'm just thinking about how I'm going to explain all of this to Aunt Rois," she said after about 10 minutes of silence. In response, Chibs reached over and put his hand on her thigh, squeezing it in a show of support. He left his hand there for the remainder of the ride. They pulled into the circular driveway at the hospice, and Aoife glanced over at Chibs and said, "Ok, get ready for the hurricane."

Aoife parked the car in the loading zone and got out. Chibs opened his door to follow. A voice with an Irish accent bellowed, "It's about damn time you got here, lass! Once they told me you were taking me out, I made Mary here wheel me out so we could get moving as soon as you got here!" Aunt Rois didn't look like Chibs had pictured. She was tall, even in the wheelchair, and her plump face looked ready to burst with pleasure even as she harassed Aoife. It was only after studying her for a moment that he could see the slight gray pallor to her and the places where her skin hung on her frame loosely, the only clue that she had been plumper still before the ravages of cancer. She had finished hugging and kissing Aoife and turned her attention to Chibs. "And who's this? You got yourself a new lad? Damn fine looking one, too," Rois commented, her eyes trailing slowly down his lean, muscular frame.

"Aunt Rois, this is my friend Filip Telford." Rois extended her hand, and Chibs took it and pressed his lips to the back.

"A pleasure, ma'am. Most people call me Chibs."

"A Scots gentleman, no less," Rois said with a wink to Aoife. Mary the aide wheeled the chair alongside the station wagon. Chibs reached for Rois and she said irritably, "I'm dying of fucking lung cancer. I'm not a cripple. They just insist on wheeling me around like an invalid," she said as she jerked her thumb in the direction of the hospice entrance. She stood, albeit a little shakily, and Chibs held his arm out so that she could use it to steady herself and get in the backseat. They stowed the folding wheelchair in the back of the car in case they needed it.

As they drove out of the parking lot, Aoife glanced at Rois in the rearview mirror. "I thought we'd go to O'Flaherty's. Mickey will enjoy seeing you."

"Oh, thank you, sweet Jesus! I haven't had a decent glass of whiskey since I went into that place." Rois retorted. Aoife tried to hide her smile. "Oh, and you're due to refill my flask before you go home, my dear." Rois spent the rest of the 15 minute drive to the pub interrogating Chibs – where was he from in Scotland, where did he live now, what did he do for a living?

At O'Flaherty's, Rois insisted on walking, but she took Chibs' arm and leaned hard on it. The owner, who greeted them personally, seemed to be an old friend of Rois', or even something more as he gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek. "Mickey," Aoife said, "I have to tell Aunt Rois about some things. I'd appreciate it if we didn't have anyone else too near us."

"Understood. I'll make sure of it," he assured her leading them to a round booth in the very back corner of the pub.

Once the drinks were on the table – a tumbler of Irish whiskey for each of them – Rois looked at Aoife expectantly. "Well, out with it."

"Aunt Rois, when Thomas died, I didn't tell you the whole truth."

"I know, lass. I knew you'd tell me when you were ready."

"That's why I brought you here. Two days ago, a man came into the coffee shop looking for me. He gave me these cuts on my arms. If Filip hadn't come in when he did, I might not be sitting here talking to you. I realized I couldn't keep this secret anymore. I need you both to know." Aoife took a sip of whiskey, and set the tumbler down with trembling hands. In the same instant, Aunt Rois reached in to put her hand over Aoife's right and Chibs entwined his with her left. Tears came into Aoife's eyes. "This is why I love the both of you." Steeled by their support, Aoife began to tell her tale.


	12. Aoife's tale

Four months earlier…

Aoife stopped pacing and put her hands to her head. "Mum, please, my head is pounding." Her mother didn't even look up from her rocking chair. She continued to weep and wail while staring into the peat fire. The only intelligible thing that came out of her mouth was her stepson Thomas' name, over and over. "Please, Mum." Aoife walked to the rocking chair and took her mother's hands in hers. "He's only a few hours late getting home. That happens sometimes. We don't know anything has happened to him. He was probably just out drinking with friends and forgot that we had plans tonight," she pleaded.

Colleen Skerrett looked through her only daughter before keening, "Thomas!" again. Aoife dropped her mother's hands and returned to pacing the floor. Rationally, there was no reason to worry yet about Thomas. He was a few hours late for a dinner with his stepmother and half-sister that Aoife knew he hadn't been looking forward to. Of anyone in the family, he was the one struggling the most with his stepmother's steady descent into madness, and he had been shutting everyone out. Aoife lived down in Galway, but she had been in Derry since Thomas' wife Katherine, overwhelmed by the pressures of raising two children and caring for a mentally ill mother-in-law with minimal help from her husband, had moved out two weeks before. When Aoife's and Thomas' father died in police custody two months ago, Thomas had seemed to be in better shape to care for Colleen than Aoife living in her single bedroom cottage, but clearly it wasn't so.

Aoife's mother had had these spells before, with preternatural accuracy. Two years ago, it was Aoife's half-brother Colin, and then, two months ago, her father, Padraig. When more distant family or friends died, Colleen usually had a crying spell and called their name well before the phone rang to notify the household. Other than that, Aoife's mother was largely silent, locked away in her rapidly deteriorating mind. She had traded her mental engagement with the world for playing the role of a modern banshee. The fact that she was now crying Thomas' name made Aoife's spine stiffen with fear.

Aoife stared at the pitiful creature in front of the fire and realized she couldn't be in her brother's little rental house a minute longer. "I'm going out to find him," she said over her shoulder as she thrust her arms on her black pea coat.

The rain from earlier in the evening had stopped, but the streets were still slick and shiny, and passing cars threw up great sprays of water. Aoife stopped in at Thomas' favorite pub, The Speckled Dog, where friendly faces greeted her. Yes, they had seen Thomas, but that was a few hours ago. He'd been drinking with some friends they didn't recognize. Could they tell her anything about them? Fairly nondescript, dressed in the wet weather uniform of a turtleneck, jeans, and a pea coat, both with dark hair. Anything else? Aoife pressed, and the bartender told her that when one ordered another round, he stuttered. "McNamara," Aoife muttered to herself. "That must be Michael McNamara." She had met him earlier this week, one of her brother's new IRA friends. Aoife told the bartender that if Thomas came back, he was to call her immediately. "My mother's doing poorly," she offered as explanation.

She trekked through the neighborhood, stopping at pubs Thomas frequented, and at each one, getting similar answers. At the Railway Pub, she managed to pick up the name of Thomas' second drinking buddy as Seamus Doherty, another new IRA crony. Aoife had never met either of the men before this week, but they had shown up at the little house every night during her visit, asking Thomas to come out drinking with them. A little further away, she came to the Red Lion, traditionally the point at which Thomas turned around, as the population turned more unionist further to the west. But the middle-aged woman waiting tables told her that Seamus and Michael had cajoled Thomas into coming with them for one more pint. "The closest pub in that direction is the Crown. It's likely that's where they went if they were already further east," the barmaid said with a jerk of her thumb.

Aoife stepped back out into the wet streets from the doorway of the Red Lion. She started down the street, where she could already see British flags waving in front of some of the houses. The road curved and dipped in another two blocks, further than she had ever dared walk by herself. She knew this place, she realized, and her blood froze in her veins. She was maybe a block south of where her husband Adam had been gunned down by police while he tried to stop the bleeding on a wounded IRA member several years ago. She sucked the cold, damp air into her lungs through her teeth, willing her heart to slow down. There was no logical reason to fear the place where her husband died. It was just another place of blood and death. Her homeland was filled with them.

Aoife reached the Crown Pub. She reached for the door handle but then she heard it: the soft thud of something heavy meeting flesh down the alley. She crept along the tiny alleyway towards the sound. She gritted her teeth as she heard the crack of a bone and the moaning of a person in agony. Aoife peered around the dumpster and had to shove her fist in her mouth to keep from crying out. Thomas lay sprawled on the ground, covered in blood. Seamus was swinging a pipe viciously at his legs, and Michael delivered a series of hard kicks to Thomas' ribs. Thomas' body jerked with each blow, but there were no signs of resistance or sounds of pain anymore. Aoife knew her brother was dead. She turned and fled, blinded by the tears in her eyes. She ran and ran until she was within sight of The Speckled Dog. She slipped in the back door of the pub and into the ladies' restroom. Aoife splashed water on her face, tied back her hair, and composed herself. Her instincts told her to keep what she saw to herself, and if there was anything she had learned from growing up in the IRA, it was to trust her instincts.

Back at the rental house, Aoife's mother had fallen asleep in her rocking chair. Aoife spread a quilt over her and kissed her mother gently on the forehead. Aoife didn't sleep that night. She lay in the uncomfortable single bed in the room that used to belong to her nephews, staring at the clock on the bedside table. Every time she heard footsteps outside, she tensed, waiting for the inevitable knock on the door. Once the footfalls would fade, she would allow tears of anguish to slide silently down her face and into the pillow. The knock finally came at 7 am, in the form of two police detectives looking for the family of Thomas Skerrett.

Aoife went through the entire process numbly. She rode with the detectives to identify her brother's body and answered their questions about Thomas' activities through a fog. He was a logistics manager in the family bookselling business and acting director since her father's recent death. She paused for a moment. She must be acting director now, being the only living, competent immediate family member. She pushed that thought aside and continued answering questions. It wasn't until the older detective cleared his throat and mentioned that they needed to tell her something she might find disturbing that she really paid attention to what was going on around her. "It'll be all over the papers, so I want you to know," he said with a kindly hand over hers. Aoife could only blink at him. "Along with your brother's body, we found graffiti indicating that the crime was committed by one of the loyalist paramilitary groups." Aoife let out a startled cry before biting down on her knuckle. "I'm sorry, ma'am." Let him think that her reaction was to the idea that this was an act of partisan violence. She lied her way through questions about possible IRA involvement - no, of course not. She couldn't imagine her brother being involved in a group like that, she told the detective, tears in her eyes. It must have been a random act of violence.

Once home, she pummeled the pillows on her borrowed bed into oblivion. Those fucking bastards. Two days ago, they had sat at her dinner table eating food she had cooked and laughing and joking with her family. Then they had beaten her brother to death to – what? Inflame partisan tensions? Provide an excuse to plant bombs? Win public sympathy for the unionist cause? Whatever their reason, Aoife resolved, they would pay for what they did in blood.

Thomas' death was the catalyst that set off a dangerous week in Derry. A car bomb exploded near the site of Thomas' beating as a warning from the IRA, and two more were found and defused in front of other pubs in the area. Since no loyalist paramilitary group had claimed responsibility for Thomas' murder, the editorials in the papers reflected a fear that there was a new, as yet unidentified, player in the terrorist game. Aoife used the tension as an excuse to travel home to Galway and set her plans into motion.

She asked the only person in Ireland she was sure she trusted for help, and her cousin and best friend Declan readily agreed. Aoife blamed her mother's decline for many of the actions she took – making plans to return to the U.S., naming her cousin the acting director of the family bookselling business, selling the family home outside Galway. She was moving closer to her stateside family, she told those who asked, to get help with her mother and to heal from the tragedies of the past few years. Aunt Rois was delighted that Aoife was coming back to the states and offered her a job and a place to live. Rois kept her cancer recurrence to herself at that time, trying not to burden Aoife with any additional worries.

Aoife waited to put her plans for revenge into play until the days before her departure. Declan hired a neighborhood woman to stay for the weekend with Colleen on the premise that he and Aoife needed to tie up loose ends with Thomas' affairs. Declan drove her to Derry during the night so that they wouldn't be seen. She stayed inside the rental house, hidden, until it was time to act.

Aoife went after Seamus first. He was a stupid brute of a man, known for his penchant for hooking up with younger women despite having a wife and four children at home. Declan tailed Seamus until the night he went to a local nightclub. Aoife put on a skin-tight dress and a blonde wig and dropped a tiny handgun in her clutch purse. She caught the bus two blocks from the house and strode into the club to catcalls. Seamus was alone at the bar, tossing back shots and leering at the women in short skirts and tube tops on the packed dance floor. It was a simple matter to shimmy up next to him at the bar and flirt.

Soon Seamus was pawing at her through the tight dress and slobbering all over her neck. Aoife wanted to vomit, but instead she giggled and asked Seamus if he knew somewhere more private they could go. His face spread into a lecherous grin, and he practically dragged her down the cement block hallway, past the restrooms and around the corner to a barren utility closet with a stained pull-out couch. He yanked on the light bulb string and locked the door behind him. "Let's get down to business, then, lass," he said with a lascivious wink, undoing his belt buckle. Aoife pulled the handgun out of her purse and leveled it with his chest. "What in the devil do you think you're doing, you little cunt?" Seamus demanded. Aoife pulled off the wig then, keeping the gun trained on him with her other hand, and Seamus' eyes widened in recognition.

"You killed my brother," she hissed.

"Not just me," he retorted.

"McNamara's time is coming, rest assured. I just got to you first."

"It ain't him I'm talking about." Seamus taunted before diving towards her.

Aoife fired until the gun ran out of bullets, counting on the pounding beat in the club to mask the sounds. Seamus lay in a pool of his own blood on the floor. She slipped out the door, wondering what Seamus was talking about. Had it just been a ruse to distract her, or had someone else been involved in Thomas' death other than Michael and Seamus? Her head still whirring with questions, she found her way to the trash barrel she and Declan had agreed to and lifted the paper grocery store bag out. Ducking into the alley, she quickly shed the wig, shoes, and dress and slid into the provided jeans, shirt, and sneakers. She dropped the used clothing in to the trash barrel and lit a match. She waited until the dress had turned to ash and the cheap wig had melted into a pile of goo. She then called Declan on the cell phone in the bag and instructed him to pick her up. On their way back to the cottage, they crossed a bridge and she tossed the gun, now wiped clean of fingerprints, out the open window.

* * *

The next morning, a knock on the door startled her. Declan was out. She peered out the peephole to find Finnbar, her boyfriend of just over seven months, standing there looking disheveled and forlorn. He had been one of Thomas' right hand men in logistics, acting as a go-between for the IRA smuggling they sometimes undertook. He was knocking and calling her name. "Come on, Aoife, open up. I know you're in there." She nearly dragged him inside and shut the door.

"When were you going to tell me?" Finnbar demanded.

"Tell you what?" Aoife asked, confused.

"That you're moving to the states."

Aoife blinked at Finnbar. He had been a little overprotective before, but there was an edge to his anger she hadn't seen before - and didn't like. "I did tell you. I told you that I was taking my mother to the states a few weeks ago and that I might be gone a while," she replied defiantly.

"I thought a while meant a few weeks. Your family house in Galway is on the market. You named your cousin as acting director of the business. I went to your cottage to see you and found a 'for rent – furnished' sign on the lawn and your personal things cleared out." An alarm bell sounded in her head - how had he learned about the house and the company and how had he known where she was? Then she shook her head. She was just paranoid after everything that had happened lately. The strength of his reaction probably just indicated he was more attached to her than he had let on.

She reached out her hand to his cheek and caressed it with her thumb. "I'm sorry if you misunderstood, Finnbar. I don't know how long it will take to get Mum comfortable, and I'm not sure I'll be able to leave her. She's the only immediate family I have left."

"Don't go, Aoife," Finnbar begged, pulling her to the couch "We'll come up with something. You can move in with me, and we'll hire someone to take care of your mother with the money from the house sale and the cottage rental."

"Move in with you? Finnbar, we've never even gone on a weekend holiday together." Their long distance relationship, with her in Galway and him in Derry, had been passionate but sporadic up until this point.

"I know, and I'm sorry about that. But tragedies like the ones we've experienced lately have a way of putting things in perspective. I intended to wait until a happier time for this, but I feel like the clock is ticking." He pulled a small blue velvet box out of his shirt pocket and flipped it open. "Marry me, Aoife. Let me take care of you."

Aoife stared for what felt like an eternity at that marquise cut diamond before she shook her head and pushed the box away. "No, Finn." She stood, the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears. "I like you, but I can't make a decision like this now." She walked to the kitchen and then realized she didn't know why she was there. She turned back to the couch and was surprised to see a flash of anger cross Finnbar's eyes. But it was gone, replaced by what looked like hurt, and Aoife wondered if she had imagined it.

"I can take care of you and your mother," he insisted, and began rattling off different options, all predicated on her accepting the proposal she had just rejected.

"I don't want to be taken care of, Finn!" Aoife finally yelled. He stopped speaking, his jaw agape. She took a deep breath and exhaled, and then said more calmly. "I'm sorry about that. I'm not in a good place emotionally now. I need time to heal before I can commit to you." She felt tears welling up in her eyes and was grateful that Finnbar stood, kissed her on the cheek, and walked to the door.

"This ring isn't going anywhere," he said just before he pulled the door closed behind him. "I expect that I'll hear from you when you calm down." Aoife's eyes bulged. He had never spoken to her with such a condescending tone before but he was gone before she could recover. She sat down on the couch to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. All she felt was anger. Tonight, she would find Michael McNamara and avenge her brother. Tomorrow, she and her mother would board a plane and fly away for a fresh start. Sometime after that, she would decide if things with Finnbar were worth salvaging.

* * *

McNamara lived in a flat a few blocks away. The car was loaded and gassed for the trip back to Galway. Declan parked a street over and turned off the car, plunging them into inky blackness. The moon was a mere sliver in the sky as Aoife, clad entirely in black, climbed onto McNamara's balcony. She easily popped the cheap lock and entered the apartment. A single light burned in the bedroom, and she could hear voices coming from the television. As she considered how to take him by surprise, he padded into the bathroom. She took advantage of the opportunity to creep into the bedroom and take up a position behind the door. As McNamara returned, clad only in a white undershirt and boxer shorts, she waited for him to pass and then stepped out and put her gun to the back of his head. "No sudden moves," she said softly. "Sit down on the edge of the bed and keep your hands where I can see them." McNamara obeyed. She kept her distance, staying a few feet away, within easy reach of the door. Aoife pulled the balaclava up. She knew it wasn't smart, but she wanted McNamara to realize why he was about to die. She could tell he recognized her, but he said nothing. "You and Seamus Doherty beat my brother to death." He scowled at her.

"Aye," he confirmed defiantly.

"I just want you to know why I'm about to kill you."

He snorted. "Heard what you did to S-S-Seamus last night. But let me ask you, little girl, do you really think that we would murder one of our own f-f-for sport? You can kill me, but the man who ordered your brother's death is still w-w-walking around a free man."

Aoife raised an eyebrow at him. "If someone told you to kill my brother, who was it?"

He spit on her. "Ask your boyfriend." His words shook Aoife to the core. He lunged for her then, just as Seamus had the night before. For the second time in two days, she emptied a gun into a man. She sprinted back to the balcony and was in Declan's car faster than she thought possible. They were on the freeway ramp by the time the first police cars went by, sirens blaring.


	13. Blessings

Aoife finished her story, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. After he had finished his meal, Chibs had slid his arm around her shoulders while she spoke. Now he pulled her to him, letting her bury her face in the collar of his cut. He used his thumb to wipe away her tears, and pushed his fears for her safety to the back of his mind. Now that he knew what he did, his gut told him that she was in danger, but she needed comfort now, not more burdens. Still holding Aoife close, he glanced over at her aunt. The woman's eyes shone with tears, but a small smile played across her lips, and she nodded at Chibs. He felt sure he had Aunt Rois' blessing to be with Aoife.

After a few minutes, Aoife sat upright. Chibs kissed her forehead, and Aoife turned to Rois. Her aunt gazed deep in Aoife's eyes and said, "I'm so proud of you, _a leanbh_. What you did for our family, what you did for my son, it tells me that we raised you right."

"But if someone ordered Michael and Seamus to kill Thomas, then I failed," Aoife said sadly. "He's still out there. He hasn't paid for what he did." Aoife's voice cracked, and Chibs could tell she was using the pronoun "he" rather than accept what the clues were pointing to – that for an as yet undetermined reason, her former boyfriend had arranged her brother's murder.

"No." Rois' voice was forceful. "Those two men beat my son to death. I don't care who ordered them to. They still murdered another member of the cause, and they needed to pay. Our family has been loyal for generations. We've put our lives and our business on the line a hundred times over, and we've bled for the IRA. If my Thomas was a rat, which of course he wasn't, his death would have been claimed and used as a warning to others. The fact that no one has assumed responsibility reeks of something dirty." Rois took Aoife's hands in hers. "I know that if there's more to this, you'll figure it out and take care of it. You may not have come from my flesh, but you are the daughter of my heart."

"Of course I will," Aoife whispered.

Rois reached under the collar of her shirt and pulled a rosary over her head. "Your da gave me this when Thomas was born. It's Connemara marble. I want you to have it." A tear slid down Rois' cheek as Aoife settled the rosary around her neck. "So proud," Rois repeated, caressing Aoife's cheek. Then she dabbed her eyes with a napkin, grabbed her tumbler, and roared, "Mickey! Why the hell is my glass empty?"

Rois steered the conversation in a lighter direction as they ordered dessert. She and Aoife reminisced about Aoife's childhood in Galway, and Chibs threw in some tales of Kerrianne's childhood as well.

Aoife excused herself to use the restroom. Chibs waited until she was out of earshot before leaning conspiratorially towards Rois. "If those thugs were telling the truth and someone did put out a hit on her brother, she's in danger."

Rois bit her lip and nodded. "Aye. That's what I'm afraid of."

"Do you have any idea why Finnbar might have done this?"

"I never met the boy," Rois said, shaking her head. "He showed up in the IRA long after I came here. But if he had Thomas killed and then proposed to Aoife, all I can figure is that he wants control of the family business. With Thomas out of the way, everything goes to her."

Chibs had more questions, but Rois cut him off with a look and a nod. Aoife was returning, and the smile on her face took his breath away. Keeping the secrets had taken more of a toll on her than he had realized, and she looked as if a giant weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Chibs resolved that, for today at least, he would keep his concerns to himself. Nothing would happen to Aoife while he was with her, and seeing her smile at him made a long-forgotten emotion bubble up deep inside Chibs' heart. If he had to put a name on that feeling, he would call it hope.

They returned Rois to the hospice center. After showering kisses on Aoife and handing her little sweetheart rose-bush to an aide, Rois grabbed Chibs and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. She squeezed him tightly and whispered in his ear, "I like you, Filip Telford. You take good care of my girl. I would hate to have to rip your balls off." Chibs laughed good-naturedly. She kissed him once on each cheek. Aoife and Chibs waited until the hospice aide had safely escorted Aunt Rois inside before turning to the station wagon again.

Chibs plucked the car keys from Aoife's hand and headed for the driver's seat. "And what do you think you're doing?" Aoife asked with her hands on her hips but her eyes twinkling. She blocked his way.

Chibs put his hands on her waist as he kissed her, turning them both in a semicircle so that he was at the car door. As he pulled his lips from hers, he whispered, "I told you I'd take you out on a date, and I am. Get in the car, lass."

* * *

_A leanbh - _my child


	14. Butterflies, ice cream and teddy bears

Aoife slid in the passenger door but then scooted to the middle so Chibs could put his arm around her. He'd still rather be on a bike with her arms around his waist and her chest pressed to his back, but being in a cage wasn't all that bad, as long as she was snuggled up to him. "So where are we going?" Aoife asked curiously.

""S a surprise, love," he told her with a wink. She made several guesses, and Chibs just drove on with a grin, shaking his head. "You can keep on guessing, but I'm not telling you."

When they pulled into the botanical gardens' parking lot, Aoife rewarded him with a delighted gasp and he let out the hopeful breath he had held all day. He had gotten the idea listening to the one of the clerks at the florist gush about how her fiancé had brought her here to propose. The other three women in the shop, one clerk and two customers, had all expressed the opinion that the gardens were a romantic setting.

Chibs felt out of place in his cut and sunglasses as he paid their admission, but then Aoife slipped her hand into his, and everything was right with his world. He wasn't that interested in the flowers, but he loved watching Aoife. She stopped every few feet, her free hand caressing the air around the blooms as she admired them. Her eyes danced. Every few minutes, she would look up at him with a happy smile and stretch up for a kiss. Chibs loved everything about this development in their relationship. His heart still thrilled every time he tasted Aoife's soft lips, and kissing her more often and in public made his heart beat double-time. They walked leisurely through the outdoor gardens, hand in hand, for probably two hours. As they reached the entrance arch where they had come in, Aoife sighed.

"What's the matter, love?" Chibs asked. Aoife pulled his hand around her waist and turned her body towards his, her arms going around his neck.

"Nothing. It's just that I'm sad to leave something so beautiful. I've never been on such a wonderful date. Thank you, Filip." He used his hand to tip her chin up while he brought his lips to hers and kissed her sweetly.

"I'm glad you liked it, lass," he whispered between kisses. "But we're not done. I've saved the best part for last." She pulled back and raised an eyebrow at him. "They have a butterfly pavilion." She let out a little laugh of joy and kissed him hard, channeling her excitement into passion, and Chibs clutched her hips tightly to prevent his hands from roaming. He couldn't wait for the opportunity to be alone with her again.

"I love butterflies! I've lived in cities most of my life, so I don't get to see them. Thank you!" Chibs chuckled at her enthusiasm and then took her hand again. He'd guessed on the butterflies, based on the frequency with which the creatures appeared in her apartment décor.

Once inside the pavilion, Chibs found himself nearly as mesmerized as Aoife with the butterflies. Until he had moved to Charming, his life had been spent in cities as well. Butterflies had no reason to appear in the concrete and asphalt-covered slums of Glasgow and Belfast where flowers had nowhere to bloom, and the area of Charming where the garage sat wasn't much better. All around him in the manmade rainforest, there were butterflies of every imaginable hue. He pushed his sunglasses up on his head so that he could see the riot of color unfiltered. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Chibs muttered to himself. "I've never seen anything like it. 'S absolutely fucking beautiful."

"Aye," Aoife nodded, clearly equally enchanted. She slipped her arm in his and they strolled slowly, coming to a stop beside the indoor waterfall. A brilliant blue butterfly landed on her hair. Chibs fumbled with his cell phone, desperately wanting a photo, and his face fell when the butterfly flitted away before he managed it. His disappointment must have shown, because Aoife stood on tiptoes and gave him a gentle kiss. She then stopped a passing couple and asked if they would take a photo of them with her cell phone. When the middle-aged woman agreed, Chibs pulled Aoife's back to his chest and wrapped his arms around her waist, enjoying the faint coffee and caramel smell that wafted up from her hair. She caught his hands in hers, entwined their fingers, and then pulled him as tight to her as possible. The blue butterfly landed back on Aoife's hair at the moment the shutter closed, causing the photo-taking woman to gasp in delight.

Stopping for ice cream was Aoife's idea. She ordered a cone of death by chocolate ice cream, and then turned expectantly to Chibs. Chibs couldn't remember the last time he had eaten an ice cream cone, but the memory that came to mind involved a very young Kerrianne and a lot of laundry. "What'll you have a cone of, _a ghrá_?" It took him a moment to recover from the (entirely pleasant) surprise of her calling him "my love" in Irish Gaelic, and the girl behind the ice cream counter had to ask him again what he wanted before he managed to stammer out that two scoops of strawberry cheesecake ice cream sounded good.

The evening was warm enough for ice cream but cool enough that it melted slowly, allowing them to walk leisurely around the outdoor mall. They strolled along the shop windows even after the ice cream was gone until Aoife stopped and stared inside. The sign over the window read "Build-A-Bear." "See something you like, lovely?" Chibs asked.

Aoife gave him an almost embarrassed smile. "I had to leave a lot of things in storage when I moved. I miss my little teddy bear collection. It's silly, I know."

"Nothing to be ashamed of, love," Chibs said softly, putting his hand on the small of her back. "I'm glad you can still take joy from simple pleasures after all the shit you've been through." He spoke from the heart. She was a survivor, just like he was, and he wondered if that was what drew him to her like a moth to a flame. "You want a teddy bear, _a mhuirnín_?" He asked, leaning close and whispering in her ear.

"You do speak Gaelic," Aoife said with a smile, and teddy bears and ice cream were all forgotten during that kiss.

"I do," Chibs agreed on her lips. When they finally broke apart, he could feel eyes on him. Inside the Build-A-Bear store, a horde of little girls in pastel party dresses and pink paper hats had emerged from a corner and were running amok in the store while their mothers gawked at the biker and his girlfriend making out in front of the store.

"I can get a bear another day. I won't have room for one in my bed with a Chibs there anyway" she whispered seductively, her eyes burning with a sudden fire. "I think maybe it's time to go back to my place." Chibs was thrilled to oblige.

Aoife had barely shut the door behind them when she tossed her purse on the sofa and pulled Chibs' lips to hers. Chibs responded by moving his hands to her waist, and then, he had her pressed up against the door, grinding his hips into hers with the nails of her left hand scraping down the side of his neck while her right caressed his scarred cheek. They pulled apart breathless. Aoife's voice was husky. "We could move this to the bedroom." She led him by the hand to her room and sat down on the vanity table chair, bringing her right foot up on her knee to remove her sandals.

"No, let me," Chibs gestured for her to put both feet on the floor. Aoife looked at him uncertainly but obeyed. He knelt and slowly unbuckled each sandal. Once her feet were bare, he pulled her right foot onto his shoulder and kissed his way systematically from her ankle to the hem of her skirt and then back down again. He repeated the process with her left leg, worshiping her skin with his lips, teeth and tongue while his eyes remained locked with hers. As he proceeded, he watched the worry in her eyes subside to be replaced with desire. When he reached the hem of her skirt on her left thigh, he nudged it up just a little and nipped at the newly revealed flesh. Aoife responded with a gasp of delight.

He stood then, pulling her up with him, and slid the shrug off her shoulders. Chibs caught sight of ink in the mirror. "You got that tattoo you were talking about," he observed.

"It's not finished yet," she answered.

"May I see it?" Chibs asked. She obliged, turning, and he traced the black ink lines with his fingers, causing Aoife to shiver. Some areas were still just outlines, but the Celtic cross started just above the small of her back and stopped only a few inches below the base of her neck. His mouth replaced his fingers following the ink lines. He kissed her right shoulder, just above one arm of the Celtic cross. "Perfect place for a crow," he murmured, not even realizing he was speaking aloud.

"What did you say?" Aoife asked lazily as she reclined into his kisses.

"Nothing important, lass." It was far too early for that conversation, he told himself. It was no time for conversation at all, he thought, as he pulled up on the hem of her dress. His lips broke contact with her skin only long enough to pull the dress over her head, and then she was wearing nothing but her bra and panties in front of him. She faced him, unbuttoning his shirt, and soon he was wearing nothing but his boxers. He walked her back to the bed, and seeing the discomfort return to her eyes, he pulled back until he could look into her eyes. "I will nae hurt you, lass. We go as far as you want to go tonight and no further."

Aoife teared up. "I don't want you to stop kissing me. But that's all I want tonight."

"Then I'm going to kiss every inch of your body," he promised. For the next hour, Chibs explored Aoife's soft curves, delighting in every gasp of pleasure as he licked, nipped, and kissed. By the time he finally gave into drowsiness, with her spooned up against him, his lips were kiss-swollen and raw. Aoife's breathing was soft and steady, but he still whispered, "Sweet dreams, _a chuisle_. Today was the best day I've had in years."

* * *

Irish Gaelic translations:

a ghrá – my love

a mhuirnín – my darling

a chuisle - "pulse," an endearment


	15. Back to the Grind

Aoife's alarm clock went off at 5:30. She reached over Chibs to turn it off and settled back into his arms. He opened his eyes and kissed the tip of her nose. "Do I want to know what time it is, lass?"

"Would you settle for an answer of too damn early?" she asked, kissing his lips before he could answer. He closed his eyes and relished the feeling of her soft, warm body against his muscled chest, her fingertips ghosting across the back of his neck.

"I could get used to getting up early if it was always like this," he whispered after a few minutes.

"Aye," Aoife murmured. The knowledge that every morning couldn't be like this saddened Chibs. When they paused for breath, he cupped the side of her face with his hand. Seeing the serious look on his face, Aoife stopped and stared back. "Something's bothering you?"

He caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Just knowing that I can't wake up like this every single morning, lass." He bit his lip before continuing. "These past two days with you have been like a dream I don't want ever want to wake up from. I'll be here as much as I can as long as you want me, but some of the work I do…" His voice trailed off as he wondered how to explain it to her without pulling her in too deep. He decided on a slightly different tack. "There will be nights when I won't be able to be here and I won't be able to tell you where I am or what I'm doing. Club business." Oh, yeah, 'cause that doesn't sound suspicious, he thought to himself. To his surprise, Aoife just nodded. He peered at her. "Are you alright with that?"

"I grew up IRA, remember,_ a ghrá_? This is nothing new to me." She smiled reassuringly, but then her face faltered. "How will I know you're safe?"

Chibs wanted to crow with joy. They'd cleared an important hurdle in most MC relationships with only a few minutes of conversation. A lot of girlfriends never made it to being old ladies because they couldn't handle knowing about club business and couldn't handle not knowing about it. All Aoife wanted to know was that he would come home safely. "I'm going to leave you my cell number. I can't always answer or talk, but I will text you anytime I will need to be out of touch for a while."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart," Chibs drew an invisible X with his fingers over his left breast. He kissed the tip of her nose. "I like it when you say sweet things to me in Gaelic." They kissed again, and then Aoife's phone began to buzz.

"Fuck. That's my 'get your lazy ass downstairs' alarm," she grumbled as she shut it off. "I've got 15 minutes until I have to unlock the door of the shop." She disentangled herself from him and rushed into the bathroom.

Chibs dressed, as there was no point in showering before a long day crawling under greasy engines. He would need to grab another mechanic's shirt when he got to Teller-Morrow, but other than that, he was ready, right down to his sunglasses, by the time Aoife came out of the bathroom still combing out her hair. She let him out the front door of the coffee shop with a bag of baked goods and a fresh, hot cup of coffee. With her on the front steps and Chibs on the sidewalk, they were almost the same height, and she planted a searing kiss on his lips. "_Go dté tú slán_, _a ghrá," _she whispered_. _

He thought for a minute - the Gaelic his IRA dealings employed was worlds apart from the sweet words he wanted to whisper _. "Slán go fóill, a chuisle mo chroí_," he finally responded, brushing his lips against hers before walking to his bike.

* * *

Chibs enjoyed one of the cinnamon streusel muffins and then went to work on his first car of the morning, a fairly straightforward brake job. He finished it off, drove the car back to the lot, and was walking to drop off the keys and invoice with Gemma when the Prospect came around the corner and looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Something wrong, Prospect?" Chibs asked.

"Were you just whistling?"

Before Chibs could answer, Tig, his hair a wild mess, piped in, "He was. He needs to cut that shit out at this hour of morning." Chibs flipped him off, still smiling. "So, did you nail that Irish pussy? Seems like she should at least put out after you got stabbed for her."

Chibs' smile turned slightly menacing. "Tiggy, we talked about this the other day. You insist on calling my girl those kinds of names, and we'll meet in the ring. I think we both remember how that went last time." Tig bristled but took a step back. Clay had raised holy hell when Chibs put Tig out of commission for two days not too long after Chibs came to Samcro. Tig's offense at the time had been mocking Chibs' loyalty to Fiona while she was, as Tig put it, fucking the man who'd fucked Chibs. "So, are you done talking shit about my Aoife?" Chibs pressed.

"I guess so," Tig said as he backed down further.

"Glad to hear it,"Chibs said as he threw an arm around his friend's shoulders, willing to forgive and forget. "'Cause if you weren't, the fresh muffins she sent along would be off-limits."

"Shit, man, did she send any of those chocolate chip muffins?" Tig asked. During Chibs' courtship of Aoife, Tig had become addicted to the chocolate muffins that contained milk, dark, and white chocolate chips.

"Aye, she did." Chibs nodded, and Tig took off for the break area like a man on a mission.

* * *

That afternoon, Gemma sent Chibs and the prospect out with a list of repos to collect. As they were departing, Clay was crossing the parking lot. "Chibs, we're having a party tonight. We've got some visitors from another charter and we want to show them some hospitality. We've missed you the last few days."

Chibs got the message loud and clear. He texted Aoife. "Tonight's going to be a late night out for me. Wish I could spend it with you. Sweet dreams, lovely." By the time he spent the expected amount of time at the party, she would have to be in bed if she was going to get up at 5:30 to open the coffee shop by 6. Maybe she would let him have a key, he mused, so that he could come over late and crawl into bed with her without disturbing her.

Chibs finished off his cigarette and flicked it out the window before he punched the button to turn off the radio. "That music's shite anyway." The truck windows were rolled down and the breeze picked up Chibs' short hair and made it dance. He could almost imagine that those tendrils were Aoife, running her hands through his hair while he kissed her. He smiled to himself as he thought about how gorgeous she had looked last night, her dark hair splayed like a halo around her head and her breath coming in excited little gasps while he paid homage to the pale soft flesh of her belly.

"Uh, Chibs, you're doing it again," the prospect said hesitantly, breaking Chibs out of his daydream.

"Doing what?" Chibs challenged.

"You're, uh, you're whistling."

Chibs turned an eerie grin on the Prospect. "Is that a problem?"

Half-Sack had the decency to look chagrined. "No, it's just not something I've heard you do before.

"Well, for your information, Prospect, I had a fucking fantastic day off yesterday and it put me in a very good mood." Chibs lit up another cigarette. He noticed the prospect gaping at him. "You got something to say, lad?"

"Is what Tig said true? Were you nailing that hot Irish chick from the coffee shop?" Sack asked curiously.

Chibs slammed an open hand on the steering well. Fucking Tig. "I'm gonna give you a piece of advice, Prospect. You have got to learn the difference between crow eaters and old ladies. You can say crude shit all day long about crow eaters and sweet butts, but when it comes to a man's old lady, you gotta show respect."

"But I called her hot! That's a compliment!" Chibs raised an eyebrow at the prospect and took another drag on his cigarette. "And she's not your old lady!" Sack was nervous, blurting out words now. "Tig told me your wife lives in Ireland but never got a crow tattoo and-" Chibs made a motion like slitting his own throat and Half-Sack shut up.

"Like I said before, I'm in a damn fine mood today, so I'm going to let what you just said slide. But if you ever want anything other than a prospect rocker on that cut, you had better fucking listen, because the other guys might not be so nice. If you can't tell the difference between my girl and a fucking crow eater, then you better treat every woman like an old lady until you're told otherwise. Just because a woman doesn't have Samcro ink yet doesn't mean that you can treat her like interchangeable pussy."

"O-okay," the prospect stuttered.

"Okay and what?" Chibs asked expectantly as they pulled up to the next address on their list. He waved his hand in a "go on" gesture.

"I'm sorry for disrespecting your – your –" Half-Sack searched for the right word.

"Just call her my girl." Chibs said impatiently.

"I'm sorry for disrespecting your girl."

"Good prospect," Chibs said, giving him a gentle cuff to the ear. "I think this has been a real educational experience for you."

* * *

By the time they returned with the last car on the list, Teller-Morrow garage was dark and locked, but a party was in full swing in the clubhouse. "And here he is," Tig announced as Chibs came in to a chorus of his name. "The man of the hour." One of the sweetbutts poured a shot for him, and Tig handed it to him. "So we all heard how you spent your days off playing hero to a damsel in distress."

"What'd you hear?" Chibs asked, downing the shot and slamming the glass on the bar. "Aoife told the cops no one else was there."

"Unser was here while you were out. Said he found a bouquet of roses and a book on the front steps of the coffee shop. Let's face it, Chibs, who else in this town would be carting around a book of Robert Burns poetry?" Bobby grinned at him and handed him another shot. Chibs tossed it back immediately.

Clay slapped him on the back. "You did good, brother. The law is going to go a lot easier on the story of a little lady defending herself against a burglar than someone like you killing him, but for folks in town, it's just another demonstration that the Sons are good for Charming." Another shot appeared in front of Chibs, and he did that one too.

Chibs felt overwhelmed, trying to drown out the noise and color around him as everyone talked to him at once, wanting to hear a story that hadn't happened. He had a crow eater hanging on each arm, chattering about what big tough hero he was. He finally managed to acquire a tumbler of good Irish whiskey and passed the crow eaters off on Tig, who was only too happy to receive their attentions. He slipped through the crowd to where Jax and Opie were sitting. The crow eaters knew to leave Opie alone, and Jax had just sent another one away. The two other men knocked their beer bottles against Chibs' glass in an awkward sort of toast. Chibs raised an eyebrow as he greeted Opie.

"Thought Donna wasn't too happy about you being here?" He said mildly.

"Ellie's sleeping over at a friend's house while Donna and Kenny are on a 'mommy and me' camping trip with the YMCA. It was so lonely in the house that I had to get out." Chibs nodded in understanding. He and loneliness knew each other well.

"So is it true what they're saying? You busted in and saved that pretty little darling at the coffee shop?" Jax asked.

Chibs shook his head and sipped his whiskey. "No, it's not. I distracted him for a minute, but she shot him. I'm no fuckin' hero."

"Doesn't mean you can't use the fact that everyone thinks you are to get laid," Jax said with a laugh and a slap on Chibs' back. As if looking at Chibs for the first time, Jax said, "I thought you had Emily and Missy hanging on you. Don't tell me you walked away from that."

"I'm good, Jackie. You can have my share of pussy in this clubhouse tonight." Chibs offered with a smile. His cell phone buzzed and he read the text message from Aoife telling him that she was off to her bed, cold and lonely without him, and she couldn't wait until he could visit again. He smiled as he closed the text and took a minute to admire the photo of them together from the botanical gardens.

"Did I hear you right, man? You've got your pick of any woman in the damn place right now and you're planning to sleep alone. What's gotten into you?" Jax asked. Chibs thought for a second and then flipped his phone open and showed Jax the photo that now was his wallpaper. "Ah. You've got it bad for her, don't you?"

Opie looked at the photo and said only, "pretty," nodding at Chibs.

Chibs considered making a witty retort to Jax, but when he opened his mouth, his accent was thicker than usual. "She kisses me on the cheek. She doesn't just kiss me on the cheek though - she purposely kisses my scars. She told me that her late husband had the same scars as me, and that she kissed him that way to make sure he knew she loved all of how he looked, including the scars, not in spite of them. Jackie-boy, I haven't had a woman who isn't associated with the club tell me I'm handsome since Jimmy O did this to me. I can't let that slip through my fingers."

Jax smiled at him and then shook his head. "No, brother, you can't. You need anything, you just tell me."

* * *

_Go dté tú slán_, _a ghrá – may you go safely, my love_

_ Slán go fóill, a chuisle mo chroí – goodbye for now, pulse of my heart_


	16. Calm Before the Storm

Saturday was a shorter day at the garage, but Clay called the MC into church soon after opening for a few business items. He concluded the conclave with, "We've got a protection run tonight. Grab some sleep between dinner and dark because we're going to be up all night, and then make sure you sleep when we get back. Gemma will have your heads if any of you miss family dinner tomorrow evening." He rapped the gavel on the table. As everyone else was leaving, Clay growled. "Chibs, you finish up that repo list today, but take Tig with you. We got word that a few of the guys on the list today think they're tough." Chibs gave a curt nod of agreement. Inside, he groaned. He wanted to stop by and see Aoife today, so he could tell her in person that he would be gone tonight and get a taste of her sweet lips to tide him over until tomorrow. If Tig was in one of his black moods, Chibs wouldn't inflict him on Aoife. He still remembered the look Aoife had given Tig the first day they met.

"On it, Clay," Tig agreed.

Chibs spent the morning keeping an eye on Tig and his state of mind, and he felt kind of relieved. Tig was telling Chibs a bevy of new jokes he had picked up recently. Most of them were utterly offensive and inappropriate for mixed company, but it meant Tig was in one of his good moods. The sergeant-at-arms seemed calm today, almost relaxed. Probably a pretty good day for Aoife to interact with him in a small dose, Chibs thought. When his stomach started to growl in the early afternoon Chibs turned the truck towards downtown Charming. "Where are we going?" Tig whined. "I'm fucking starving."

"I like to hit the coffee shop for lunch when I can," Chibs said casually, watching Tig's reaction.

"Are the lunches as good as the muffins?" Tig asked with a glint in his eye.

"Better," Chibs bragged, thinking about Aoife's shepherd's pies. And Aoife, of course. Both made his mouth water.

"I'm in." Chibs wondered if he should say anything else or threaten Tig with bodily harm if he was disrespectful to Aoife. Tig must have read his mind. "Chibs, we're good. I get it. You deserve a good woman. I hope you've found one." Chibs knew what Tig was leaving unsaid. Tig never understood why Chibs' estranged wife acquiesced to Jimmy O's control without more of a fight. Such a thing wasn't in the sergeant-at-arms' nature, and he was angry on Chibs' behalf at Fiona. Chibs had given up discussing the matter with his brother years ago. Sometimes he got angry with Fi, too, and it felt good to know someone else cared enough to get upset for him.

Tig was true to his word about behaving. When Chibs and Tig leaned against the counter, Aoife greeted Chibs with a quick kiss and then turned to Tig. "Nice to see you again, Tig," Aoife said cautiously.

He gave her a wide lazy smile. "Heya, doll! Chibsy here was telling me that you have the best shepherd's pies this side of the pond." Aoife's eyes widened a little in surprise at Tig's friendly demeanor.

"I like to think so. So, two shepherd's pies?"

The two Sons had almost finished their lunch when Aoife got a breather long enough to talk to them more. Chibs wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her onto his knee. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and murmured. "Looking gorgeous as always, lass."

Aoife smiled. "Flirt," she retorted, dragging her nails down the side of his neck and making Chibs shiver in anticipation of their next time alone.

Chibs shrugged as he returned her grin. "Aye. No reason to deny it. I got myself the prettiest girl in Charming and I want her to know I think so. But I came by to let you know I'll be out late tonight. Not supposed to be back until tomorrow morning." He saw Aoife try to hide her disappointment. "I know, lass. But I'll come over tomorrow afternoon and we'll go for a ride before family dinner, if you like?"

"I'd like that a lot," she said with a smile. She kissed him and slid off his lap to wait on new customers. "Let me know when you're back safe." They shared one more kiss before she walked away.

Chibs felt Tig watch the entire interaction, even while he pretended to look elsewhere. Once Aoife was back at the counter, Tig spoke. "Your face lights up when she's around," the sergeant-at-arms said simply. Chibs just nodded at his brother. It was a step in the right direction for Tig.

* * *

Chibs arrived at the coffee shop the next afternoon just as Aoife was locking up. She let him in, closed the blinds, and then he found himself pushed up against the wall, light switches poking into his back, while his pretty girl kissed him passionately. He responded, and then his hands were sliding under her blouse and clutching at the skin of her back. Breaking their liplock to take a breath, he pressed his forehead against Aoife's and whispered, "And good afternoon to you, too, _a_ _chuisle_."

"How long have you been back?" Aoife asked.

"Not sure what time we got in this morning, but I feel asleep with my boots on."

Aoife closed her eyes and bit her lip. Chibs could tell she was struggling to keep her voice level. "I was really worried about you," she said softly.

"You don't need to worry about me, lass. I've made it to this age without too many dings and dents," Chibs laughed. She gave him a doubtful look, and he could see the hurt in her eyes. "I'm sorry, love. I'll do better next time. I'm not used to have someone worrying about whether I come home or not." He pulled her in for another kiss.

* * *

Chibs helped Aoife fasten the chinstrap on the new helmet he had bought for her and then they both climbed on the motorcycle. As Aoife put her arms around him, he remembered the first day he had met her. It felt like years instead of barely two months since she had stolen his heart.

They arrived at Gemma and Clay's at 5 pm. Aoife glanced at her watch. "I thought Gemma said dinner was at six."

"Better early than late. Never, ever show up late for anything Gemma invites you to." Chibs pulled her against him. "Lass, Gemma likes the women to help in the kitchen before dinner. It's up to you, but it will go a long way towards finding your place in the Club."

"Of course. I want to fit in with your family," Aoife said. They shared another kiss, only parting when the sound of more motorcycle engines approached.

Gemma greeted them at the door, an apron over her stylish clothing. Chibs gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Evening, Chibs," Gemma said. "Nice to see you again, baby girl."

Aoife turned on the manners her socialite mother had insisted on as a child. "Thank you for inviting me to your home. I brought some bread to contribute. Would you like some help in the kitchen?" Gemma shot Chibs a look over Aoife's head, and Chibs just smiled back.

"Sure would, darlin'. Come along with me." Chibs took Aoife's jacket and gave her a kiss and a wink. Clay and Tig were already in the den, drinking beers and yelling at some game on TV. Chibs grabbed a beer and he took the recliner closest to the kitchen. He could hear introductions being made, but then Juice and Bobby joined them and he could barely hear himself think over their shouting about a bad call. Chibs didn't know or care – he had never bothered much with American sports. He pretended to be interested in the game, but his palms were sweaty. He wondered if he had given Aoife enough warning about tonight. The women of Samcro could be brutal if they took a dislike to a woman.

Ten minutes later, Chibs couldn't help himself any longer. On the premise of getting a tumbler of whiskey from the bar, he peeked around the corner into the kitchen at the five women. Bobby's Donna (as she was called to distinguish her from Opie's wife Donna) was stacking dishes to set the table while Lenny's old lady Barb unloaded the dishwasher. Aoife and Luann were chopping up vegetables for a salad, and everyone was laughing at something Aoife had just said. Aoife spotted him and gave him a wink. Satisfied that his girl was doing fine in the kitchen, Chibs rejoined his MC brothers in the den.

A bit later, Aoife appeared in the doorway of the den. "Ding, ding, ding," she called out, miming ringing a dinner bell. "Come and get it!" She stepped quickly to the side as the Sons made a beeline for the dinner table, leaving her alone with Chibs. He engulfed her in his arms and kissed her tenderly.

"You look like you're having a good time, _a chuisle_."

"I am," Aoife said with a big smile. "Luann and Barb are a lot of fun. Luann went out of her way to make me feel welcome."

"I'll have to hug her extra hard," Chibs said as his heart swelled. "I love seeing you here with my family," he murmured against her lips as he kissed her again. Chibs felt something snap against his backside.

"That's enough of that, you two," Luann scolded, her eyes twinkling. She tossed the kitchen towel she had just snapped back over her shoulder. "You're keeping everyone else waiting. I wouldn't stand between these guys and food to long if I were you. "

Aoife was seated in the center of the table, between Chibs and Juice and across from Barb and Luann. Chibs squeezed Aoife's hand under the table, and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He wasn't really listening to the conversation, just enjoying looking around the table and seeing happy faces. Aoife was holding her fork with one hand so that she could keep her other hand on his thigh. Barb, Luann and Gemma were whispering with their heads together. Clay and Bobby were deep in a conversation about an old motorcycle Bobby wanted to buy, and from the way that Jax was snickering, Chibs suspected that Tig was telling his new jokes. Aoife was listening intently as Juice regaled her with tales of his adventures as a street rat in Queens.

The night wasn't perfect. There was an awkward silence when Clay made a joke about Chibs' penchant for Irishwomen before Luann jumped in and distracted everyone by asking who needed refills on their drinks. Aoife also had a teary moment when she was in the middle of telling a story to one-up Juice's tales of juvenile delinquency. She got to the part about her brother Thomas and began to cry. "Sorry," she explained in a small voice. "My brother passed away a few months ago, and sometimes the wound is still raw."

Tig pulled a clean handkerchief from his breast pocket and passed it to her behind Juice. "We all know what it's like to lose people we love," he assured her as he patted her hand. A murmur of assent rose up around the table.

After dinner, Jax and Chibs helped the ladies clear the table before joining the rest of the guys in the den. The television was blaring again but the sport was now pro wrestling. Clay had reclaimed his recliner and Gemma stood behind him, massaging his neck and shoulders. Juice and Bobby were cheering from the couch, while Tig yelled out snarky commentary on the fight choreography from his spot on the floor. Chibs and Jax claimed the other couch. Chibs was only too happy to pull Aoife onto his lap when Luann shooed her out of the kitchen. Aoife put her back against the arm of the sofa and Chibs wrapped his arm around her. "What the hell are we watching?" she asked, her breath ticking his ear.

"Don't really care, lass," Chib whispered into her ear, taking advantage of the closeness to flick his tongue across it. She shivered, and he slid his free hand just under her shirt to rest flat against her belly. "I'm just glad you're here with me."


	17. My heart is in you

Chibs had already started the motor on his bike when Clay approached and motioned that he wanted to talk. Chibs remained astride his bike but turned off the ignition. "I 'spose you're heading over to see that Irish chick," the president growled. The hackles on the back of Chibs' neck went up. For some reason, Clay was not in Aoife's fan club. Chibs couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

"Aye," Chibs confirmed with a nod.

"You got your prepay on you?" Clay asked, arms crossed. Chibs pulled the phone out of the pocket of his cut and waved it slightly in the air, biting down his desire to make a sarcastic reply. "Good. Things have been quiet lately. When things get quiet, I get nervous." Chibs just nodded, not trusting his voice to remain level. "Oh, and one more thing. I got a message from McKeavy today. He'll be here within the week."

"Aye. Let me know when you hear more," Chibs replied, pushing the emotions swirling inside him deeper so they wouldn't reveal themselves. The conversation over, Clay stalked back to the garage. "Fuck," Chibs muttered under his breath. He'd been so wrapped up in Aoife lately that he hadn't thought about what would happen the next time the IRA brought their guns in. McKeavy and his crew might not know anything about Aoife. But then again, they might know everything. He needed some intel to figure out the best way to keep his lass safe. Chibs put the kickstand back down and made a beeline for the clubhouse.

Juice was in his room, his hip-hop music blasting from the speakers. Chibs knocked. No answer. "Juice!" he yelled. Still nothing. He pounded on the door with his fist and bellowed, "Juice!"

"It's unlocked!" came the reply. Chibs stepped inside the room and went directly for the stereo. He turned the volume down by half. "Hey, that's a good song!" Juice protested, finally looking up from his video game. Then he saw the frown on Chibs' face. "Something wrong, Chibs?"

"Juicey-boy, I need you to do me a favor. You still got that contact in the police station?"

Juice grinned. "Oh, yeah..." He closed his eyes as if he was remembering, and Chibs rolled his eyes. Most of Juice's "contacts" were clubhouse hang arounds. They worked regular jobs and then tried to spice up their weekends by partying with the Club. Chibs lightly flicked his middle finger at the younger man's ear. "Focus."

"Is this Club business?" Juice asked.

"Christ, I hope not. I need to know if the police have IDed guy that Aoife shot."

"I know for a fact that they haven't. Her wasting that guy was quite the talk around the station for a few days, but with the open and shut self-defense case, he's low priority and is still chilling in the morgue."

"Ok, so I want you to do two things for me: number one, see if you can ID the guy." Juice raised an eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that. Even Unser knows you hack into the police department computers for fun. I'm guessing you'll find he's from either Ireland or the UK, with ties to northern Ireland and possibly the IRA. And then I want you to make sure no one else can ID him. Hack his file, get him sent to Skeeter ASAP. Once you get the tech stuff done, let me know and I can help with that last part."

"What are we doin', man?" Juice asked. Chibs considered how much information to provide. He banked on the brother-sister vibe he had gotten from Juice and Aoife's conversations the night before.

"We're protecting Aoife."

"Ok. That's all you have to say. I'm in."

* * *

Aoife leaned forward and pushed Chibs' hair off his forehead. It wasn't long enough to actually get in Chibs' way, but he loved the feeling of her doing it. "Are you sure you're alright, _a ghrá_? You barely said a word while we were at the restaurant, and you've been standing there just staring into nothing for more than a minute." He caught her hand in his and held it to the side of his face. He hadn't realized how long he'd been standing in the doorway to her bedroom.

"Sorry, love. It was a long day," he answered vaguely, kissing the palm of her hand before releasing it. Chibs pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. He stared deep in Aoife's beautiful blue eyes and locked all of his worries about McKeavy's arrival in a dark corner of his mind. Nothing would happen to Aoife as long as Chibs was there. "You're so damn beautiful," he whispered as he cupped her cheeks in his hands and brought his lips to hers. She took hold of the collar of his cut and held his lips tight against her own. Her kiss was fierce and hot, and it took every ounce of Chibs' willpower to finally pull his mouth away. He rested his forehead against hers. "We should get some sleep. You're already up later than you like to be."

Aoife shook her head, even as she flicked the light switch to off. She kissed him again, and then kissed his scarred left cheek so that her words tickled his ear when she whispered huskily. "You can take me to bed, but I'm not ready to sleep. I want you, you handsome Scot, _a rúnsearc_."

If she'd said anything else, Chibs might have pulled away and been more insistent on sleep for her, but as soon as she called him handsome, he was done in. "Little Irish minx. You're so damn sexy," he hissed her as her lips ghosted over his jaw and her fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt. His strong hands slid down her body and came to rest on her hips.

"Only for you," she breathed. She pushed his cut off his shoulders, followed by his button down shirt. Chibs watched her. The only light in the room came from the streetlights outside, putting the room in shades of gray. Her milky white skin shone next to the dark shirtwaist dress. Chibs kissed Aoife as his rough, calloused hands slowly undid the buttons down the front, one by one. He broke the kiss so that she could pull his black wifebeater shirt over his head. Then he slid the dress off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. She stepped back and removed her bra and panties, leaving her naked in front of him.

"Mother of Christ," Chibs growled, admiring her in the faint light. "You're fucking gorgeous." He kissed her deeply while he maneuvered her back to the bed and lowered her onto it. He broke the kiss only as long as it took him to crawl on top of her.

"Your accent is stronger tonight," she whispered when he dipped his head to kiss along her collarbone.

"That's passion, love. Happens when I'm in bed with a gorgeous, sexy, Irish minx." He punctuated each descriptive word with a nip at her neck. He propped himself up on an elbow to look at her. "Your accent's stronger, too."

"Aye, I suppose it is. For similar reasons." Her voice sent chills of pleasure up his spine.

"I want to hear it in your voice. Tell me, darlin'," he instructed as he traced the line of her jaw with his lips.

"I can't even think right now," she protested between pleased little whimpers.

"And why's that?" Chibs pressed on, as his kisses continued down her neck.

"Because I'm being kissed senseless by a sweet-talking, sexy Scotsman who's stolen my heart," Aoife replied. "My Filip." He growled appreciatively into her neck at that comment. Now that the moment he had been fantasizing about had arrived, he wanted to take his time and savor it. She wanted him. Him, Filip Telford. Crow eaters pursued him because he was a Son, a rebel with a Scottish accent and dangerous-looking tattoos and scars. He knew that to them he was either a bad boy fling or a rung on the status ladder. But Aoife wanted Filip, and his bruised and blackened heart sang. He couldn't possibly deserve a second chance at love, and yet here he was.

Chibs had had a lot of sex in his life – there were always willing crow eaters to provide release, but he hadn't made love in over a decade because it felt like lying. Laying a line of kisses all the way from ankle to thigh felt like a series of promises, and he liked to think he was a man of his word. Until Aoife, he hadn't taken his time to run his fingers along the swell of a breast, drawing gasps from his lover, or lazily tongued his way from wrist to elbow and then to shoulder, reveling in soft skin. There was no more talking for a long time, as gentle kisses and caresses did all the communicating that was necessary. He slid down the length of Aoife's body and began to worship every inch of her skin, starting with kisses on her ankles. Chibs relished every whimper as he ran his hands and lips over Aoife's smooth curves. He had forgotten the dreamy haze of being lost in the overwhelming contact, of losing track of where the edges of him ended and she began.

"Filip," Aoife raised her lips from his shoulder to whisper. "Your boots." Reluctantly, Chibs pulled his mouth off of her stomach with a final gentle kiss and sat up on the edge of the bed. He bent over to unlace his boots and felt Aoife wrap herself around his back, her tongue tracing the dark outlines of his tattoos. Once the boots and socks were off, Chibs sat another minute, enjoying the feeling of her skin against his back. Then he felt her push him up and tug at his waist, turning him to face her. Her hands manipulated his belt buckle and then the button and fly of his jeans and then he was stepping out of them, clad only in his boxer shorts. Aoife tugged on the waistband of his boxers, and then Chibs was naked. Aoife ran appreciative eyes over his muscled, tattooed formand then pulled insistently on his hips, and he found himself lying on top of her, skin on skin. He kissed her deeply, reveling in her softness and warmth, and then he pulled back to look at her face. She seemed to be frowning.

"You alright, beautiful?"

She cupped his cheek with her hand. "Just nervous. The last guy I was with…well, you know that he messed me up," she told him vaguely, a touch of pain in her eyes. She hadn't uttered Finnbar's name since she had told him her story. Chibs' fists itched to teach the man a lesson. Then he looked down at his beautiful lass.

"Right bastard, wasn't he?" Chibs kissed her forehead and his thumbs caressed the worry lines on her face, massaging them into relaxation. "I can't promise you won't ever call me one, but I don't want to ever hurt you. You're the most amazing woman I've ever met. Do you want me to stop?" Chibs prayed that she would say no, but if push came to shove, he knew he could take care of how he was feeling with a few minutes in a cold shower.

"No, just go slow. Condoms are in this drawer," Aoife pointed at the top drawer of the bedside table. Chibs kissed her gratefully while he reached his right hand into the drawer and felt around for a condom. His hand closed around something metal and cold - a switchblade? Another metal object fell under his searching fingers, and that was definitely a gun – bigger than the one she had used on the thug during the robbery. The dark worry about McKeavy and the IRA threatened to distract him, but then Aoife's hand slid down his body and all he could think about was her.

"Little trouble there?" Aoife teased as she dragged her nails down his stomach. "They're still in the box if it helps."

It did. Chibs located the box and ripped off the flap. He was hard and hungry for her. He rolled the condom on, with assistance from her eager hands that he was only too willing to accept. Despite Aoife's requests to go slow, as soon as he was sheathed in the condom, she was pulling him down on top of her.

An hour of foreplay had charged all of their nerve endings, and their coupling last less than five minutes. Still, Chibs held off until she gasped, "Filip," as she tightened around him, and then he was hissing her name as he came.

In the post-coital glow, Chibs lay on his back with Aoife on her side snuggled up against him, her head resting on his chest. He wrapped one arm around her while his other hand lazily twirled some of her dark tresses around his finger, released, and curled them up again. "Filip?" Aoife whispered softly.

"Aye, love?"

"_Táim i ngrá leat_." She propped herself up so she could look into his eyes, and Chibs' heart skipped a beat at how vulnerable and yet lovely she looked as she declared her love for him. He couldn't remember the last time he was this deliriously happy. His heart was filled to bursting, but he could tell she still needed assurance. He could say "I love you," but it seemed too easy.

He kissed her sweetly, tenderly, and then whispered back the most romantic thing he had ever heard, something he had never uttered before. "_Tá mo chroí istigh ionat_." Aoife's face transformed. She was glowing as she kissed him. Soon, her head was on his chest, her breathing steady and even, while Chibs held her and wondered at his amazing luck.

Just outside Charming, the Sons' gun warehouse burst into flames.

* * *

_a rúnsearc_ -literally translates to "my secret love," passionate expression of "my beloved"

_Táim i ngrá leat - _I'm in love with you.

_Tá mo chroí istigh ionat - _My heart is within you.


	18. Morning bliss and detective work

Chibs heard the message hit his prepaid cell. He shifted just enough to pick it up, careful not to disturb Aoife, still asleep against his chest. He flipped it open and read the text. "Dude, shit just got real. Be here on time in the am." Despite the serious nature of the message, Chibs barked a little laugh. He'd mocked Juicey for using the phrase "shit just got real" when the mohawked man was still a prospect. Now they both used it on each other when things heated up for the MC.

Aoife opened her eyes halfway and tilted her head up. "Everything all right, Filip?"

Chibs caressed her hair and put a light note in his voice. "Just club stuff. Juice wanted to remind me that we have an early morning meeting. Things might be busy the next few days, but nothing you need to worry about, my lovely lass." He kissed her on the temple.

He woke up, not the high-pitched sound of Aoife's alarm, but to the fluttering of his abdominal muscles in response to Aoife kissing her way down his stomach and then even lower. His eyelids flickered open just long enough to see her freckled face and bright blue eyes, and then her mouth descended once more. "God, lass," he groaned, and he felt her chuckle through him as a vibrating hum. "You're fucking wonderful." He wanted to keep his eyes open and watch her, but the pleasure she was giving him made him close his eyes and throw his head back. He finally gathered all his strength and spoke in a hoarse whisper, "Stop, love." Her confused eyes met his. "What you're doing is fucking fantastic, but I want to have you again this morning. Might be a few days before I can again."

As he slid between her thighs just a few minutes later, Aoife reached up and caressed his scarred cheeks. "You're smiling so wide I can barely even see your scars," she whispered.

"I'm waking up to you, _a chuisle_." Chibs said simply, and then he kissed her while he pushed inside her. The faintest traces of dawn were painting the sky and falling on his beautiful lass' skin as she moved under him. The streets were silent save for the occasional rattle of a passing car, and only the earliest of birds were singing. He'd forgotten the delicious sensation of making love in the early morning, still dreamy from sleep. He was the luckiest damn bastard in the world.

* * *

Chibs had already stowed the muffins in the saddlebag and given Aoife a passionate farewell kiss. He swung his leg over the bike and realized she had stepped off the porch. "Here." She put the key in his hand and closed his leather-covered fingers over it. "You can come over any time you like."

Chibs raised his sunglasses onto his forehead and gave her a searching look. "You sure, lass?"

"You worry about waking me up all the time. This way I don't have to get up to answer the door." Aoife smiled shyly. "By my estimation, that means I get to wake up to you in my bed more often." God, his lass was hot when she looked up at him through her lashes like that. Chibs leaned over and gave her a scorching kiss.

"I wouldn't expect me tonight, love. But I'll come back as soon as I can. I can't get enough of my sexy Irish lass."

"Just let me know you're safe. That's all I ask. _Tá grá agam duit._"

"_Tá grá agam duit_," Chibs whispered onto her lips.

* * *

Chibs emerged from the shower to a scrawled note laying on top of his cut. "Got something for you. Juice," he read to himself under his breath. Tossing a t-shirt on and pulling his jeans over his hips, Chibs positioned his sunglasses and walked down the dorm hallway. He knocked on Juice's door, noticing the music was a lot lower today.

"Come in!" Juice yelled back. "Hey, Chibsy, you mind shutting the door?" Juice was sitting on his bed wearing only a Samcro t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. He had a keyboard on his lap. The giant tv hanging on the opposite wall was acting as his monitor. "Have a seat-" Juice looked around the room, covered in dirty laundry. "Um, why don't you sit down on the bed," he suggested, scooting over to make room.

"You got something for me, Juicey?"

"Ok, here's what we've got," Juice said, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "Aoife's attacker was this man." A photo popped up on the screen. "Sean MacAuley. UK citizenship, last know address was in Londonderry. He was here legally. Arrived in Boston about six weeks before he attacked Aoife. I'm plotting his route across the country using credit card and rental card receipts that were still in his wallet."

"You got his wallet?" Chibs was impressed.

"I got everything," Juice bragged, gesturing at a pile of items on the night stand that included a wallet and a passport. "The property room at the morgue had a security issue yesterday," he explained slyly. He showed Chibs the beginning of the path that Sean had followed. He must have left Ireland within days of Aoife's departure, but clearly he hadn't known exactly where she'd gone.

"So, what's his connection to Aoife? Any connection to her family? She had a boyfriend named Finnbar who worked for the family business. He might be connected." The normally laconic Chibs peppered Juice with questions, trying to dig deeper.

"Dude, Chibsy, I'm trying to work here. Do some of your own damn research." Juice passed the keyboard over to the Scotsman and grabbed the laptop.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Juicey."

"Type in fucking www-dot-wikipedia-dot-org and start looking for information. Didn't you say there was a family business or some shit? That kind of shit is on Wikipedia."

Chibs started typing. He racked his brain. He was pretty sure that the family business involved books and used the family name. He had typed every variation of McIntyre and book that he could come up with and found only junk. He was muttering and cursing to himself. Juice had gone back to his work. "I can't find shit, Juicey! Fuck. McIntyre's her fucking married name. The business would be under her birth name."

"Did you say you met her aunt?" Juice suggested, not even looking up from what he was doing.

Chibs looked at the younger man in amazement. "Some days you're fucking brilliant, kid, I don't care what Tig says." The Scotsman dialed information for the hospice phone number, and in a matter of minutes his call was ringing through to Rois' room. He hadn't needed Rois' surname. As soon as he mentioned her first name, the receptionist had known whom he meant.

"Aye?" He heard Rois' voice on the phone.

"Aunt Rois? This is Filip Telford –"

"Aoife's lad! How're you, my boy?'

"Not bad. I have a bit of a strange question. What was Aoife's last name before she married?"

Rois didn't say anything for a full, tense minute. "Now why in the hell would you need to know that?"

Chibs weighed his options and decided on complete disclosure. "I'm checking up on the man who attacked Aoife in the coffee shop. I want to see if he has any connections to her old boyfriend, but I don't know where to start."

"You're a good lad for my girl. The name you're looking for is Skerrett. You bring Aoife out here again soon."

"I'll do that, Aunt Rois. I'll bring you a bottle, too."

"I knew I liked you, Filip. Give Aoife my love." She rang off.

Chibs bent over the keyboard. "Here it is – Skerrett's Booksellers. Shit, I remember Skerrett's. There was one in Belfast. I took Kerrianne there as a special treat when she was young. She loved the children's section." He felt tears burn in his eyes. In his head, Kerrianne was still that little girl with a mop of curls and a shy smile for her Da. But he knew she was a teenager now, turning into a beautiful woman like her mother, and he had missed all those years. He briefly wondered if Jimmy had ever crossed paths with Aoife's family, and then he had to shut those thoughts down. They didn't do him any good. He had failed utterly to protect his wife and daughter; he wouldn't allow such failure again with Aoife. "Business dates to the late 19th century, shops all over the republic and the north, with the main office in Galway and a secondary office and a major warehouse in Derry. That's worth a pretty penny." Worth even more if they were involved in some sort of smuggling for the Real IRA, Chibs thought. "There's the acting director, Declan Donnelly. That's Aoife's cousin. He scrolled down further. "Mary, mother of Christ," he cursed. "I think we know why Aoife is so intimidated by Tig. This is her bastard ex."

Juice looked up and his fingers stopped typing. "Shit." The man in the photo was cleaner cut than the Samcro Sergeant at Arms and wearing a tailored pinstriped suit, but his curly dark hair and cold eyes were almost an exact match.

"Finnbar Kilbey," Chibs read the photo caption. "Acting Director, Logistics." Chibs continued absorbing all the information he could about Skerrett's Booksellers while Juice continued his hacking.

"Done and done," Juice announced trimphantly. "He's on the next bus to Skeeter."

Chibs raised an eyebrow. "I don't know shit about computers but I know Charming PD doesn't do things like that electronically."

Juice gave him a shit-eating grin. "You're right. But the paperwork just printed out at the network printer, and Skeeter just got a voicemail from a morgue clerk demanding to know why he hadn't picked up the body." Juice stopped typing and looked over at Chibs, who was looking at a map of Skerrett's Bookseller locations in Ireland. "Why did you want me to get rid of the body and keep him from being IDed?"

Chibs looked over at Juice, praying he was kidding, but the frown on his mohawked friend's face was genuine. "Because it might take whoever sent him longer to figure out he's failed if he just disappears. And if we're really lucky, he might not have told anyone where Aoife is. Did you find a cell phone?"

"No, he didn't have one on him."

"Hotel room?"

"He'd checked out of the hotel in Lodi early the morning of the attack. He doesn't seem to have checked into a new one." Chibs frowned. The man had been here six weeks. He had to have clothes and a shaving case, something more than what was in his pockets. Then it came to him.

"Where did he rent his last car?"

Juice tapped a few buttons. "Vegas. He was changing cars every few days."

"That's a seven or eight hour drive. Shit, Juice, was the rental car ever returned?"

Before Juice could answer, there were two sharp raps on the door and Tig yelled, "Turn off the video games and put some pants on! Just because you're not going on this doesn't mean you don't have to be on watch back here!" Tig's footsteps continued down the hall.

Chibs checked the time on his cell phone. "Shit, I gotta get ready, Juicey. Look, if we find that rental car, we probably find everything else this bastard had with him, including his phone. Can you check that for me?"

"Sure. I'll have time to kill while I'm waiting for you guys to get back. You still want me to keep this to myself?"

Chibs shared a long look with Juice. "Aye, brother. Until I know what we're dealing with."

* * *

_a chuisle_ - "pulse," an endearment

_Tá grá agam duit_ – I love you.


	19. A Wee Bairn

The rest of the morning was pure chaos. With Clay, Jax, Bobby, and Tig checking out the remains of the warehouse, the garage was short-handed, and Chibs couldn't even hope to grab five minutes of peace. It seemed like half of Charming had car trouble this morning. Still, as he swung his body up into the cab of the tow truck yet again, he felt the vibration of his phone in his cut pocket. He flipped it open to find a message from Aoife. It was simple. "I miss you. Love you." He smiled at the thought of his lass, and he hoped that the prospect had learned not to complain about his whistling.

He quickly typed back, "Love you, too, lass. Be by for lunch." He and the prospect stopped by her shop early – Chibs wanted to be at the garage when Jax and the guys got back. She was sitting on the stool behind the counter when he came in. She gave him a weak, tired smile.

"Morning, lass. Are you all right? You look exhausted." He pushed her curls away from her face to give her a gentle kiss.

"I didn't sleep very well last night. Mum had a rough evening and I had to go out to the hospital, and then I was…well, I was worried. I didn't hear from you most of the day."

Chibs caressed her cheek. "I crashed early and hard last night. Someone must have exhausted me," he whispered, his eyes twinkling as he gave her another kiss. "You don't have to worry about me, darlin'."

"I try not to," Aoife said, her worry lines relaxing a little. "Not worrying doesn't come easy to me."

"I wanted to see if you had plans later this week. Carnival's coming to town. We could go on another date," Chibs suggested, winking at her.

A smile crossed Aoife's face, her eyes bright. "I'd like that." She wrapped her arms around Chibs' neck and pulled him close to her.

"You're a dream, lass," Chibs breathed. His cell phone trilled. "Aye?" Gemma gave him the address of their next tow. "A deer through the windshield?" he repeated back. "Ah, this ought to be fun for the prospect. I'm on it." He snapped his phone shut. "I'm going to have to take a sandwich to go. Roast beef and Swiss, love." Aoife handed him the sandwich, her fingers brushing his familiarly. Half-Sack had already polished off two shepherd's pies while they talked. Chibs kissed his lass one more time and pulled reluctantly away. On the way to the truck, he caught the prospect giving him a strange look and realized that he was whistling.

* * *

Chibs' heart dropped to his feet as he eavesdropped on the conversations between Gemma, Jax, and Tara about Jax's fragile wee boy. He stood between the conclave and the rest of the club, who were lingering uncomfortably in the hospital corridor. Tara, the teenage girl who'd broken his V.P.'s heart, was a surgeon now and working on Jax's son. Who'd have thought that? Chibs thanked heaven for small favors: at least with Tara on the case, Jax wasn't dealing with a stranger. Unfortunately, Jax wasn't "dealing" at all. Chibs wanted to grab the younger man by the shoulder and turn him around, shoving him in the direction of the NICU and the wee one, but instead he found himself chasing after Jax as he stormed out of the hospital in a rage. It wasn't that Chibs didn't understand the desire to beat the shit out of Wendy's dealer, but Jax hadn't even seen his son before taking off.

Chibs bit his tongue a few times to keep himself from offering Jax advice, and more than once he slammed his fist into the seat of his bike to release some tension. He did as he had been bidden, following the VP so that Jax could be stopped before he vented his pain as rage and caused himself and the Club repercussions. Chibs' heart broke as he watched Jax swallow so much pain and anxiety, but he didn't know how to help him except to be a rock for Jax to lean on as Jax had been for him in the past. When Chibs had first come to Samcro as a transfer from the Belfast chapter, he had been haunted, plagued nightly with dreams of his stolen wife and child, and had taken refuge in the bottle. It had been Jax and Gemma who had pushed, pulled, and cajoled him into the Samcro family fold. Chibs glanced over at Jax, now sitting astride his bike next to the Scotsman. Wordlessly, Chibs reached over and put his hand on Jax's shoulder and squeezed it. Jax gave a sad smile. "Thanks, brother."

* * *

As soon as he could, Chibs escaped the clubhouse party. He couldn't stay in this place, surrounded by people laughing, drinking and fucking while his brother's son, Chibs' nephew in fact if never in blood, lay in a hospital incubator fighting for his life. This was getting under Chibs' skin more than he could have ever predicted. He had forgotten how much a wee babe could tug at his heartstrings. He texted Aoife that he would be over ASAP. After what she had done for her brother, she understood family. She would empathize with Chibs' pain and frustration.

Chibs rapped softly on Aoife's door before sliding his key in the lock. The light over the sink was on, as was one down the hall in her bedroom. "'Ello, love!" he called, softly in case she was asleep already. He shed his jacket and cut and draped them over the first stool at the breakfast bar. Sitting on the couch, he unlaced his boots. He paused for a moment, inhaling the scent that he associated with Aoife – coffee with undertones of caramel and vanilla. He dropped his boots, socks tucked inside, at the foot of the stool, and stepped softly back the hall to the bedroom. About halfway down the hall, he heard the sound of running water in her shower. He pulled his shirts over his head and dropped them next to the bed. Clad in his jeans and boxers, he paused in the bathroom doorway.

Aoife had left the door open again, allowing him the same lovely view through the frosted glass as he had before. He chuckled to himself. "Forgot to close the door, my arse." More loudly, he teased, "I think you 'forgot' to close the door again, lass. Not that I mind." He heard a laugh from the shower.

"What if it wasn't an accident?" She called back.

"Then I might think you want me to watch you in the shower. Or maybe you even need help in there," he suggested, sliding his jeans and boxers off. Chibs listened to the water run for a minute while she said nothing, and he hoped he hadn't said the wrong thing. Then the shower door opened and Aoife was standing under the spray, making a "come here" motion with her pointer finger. Chibs crossed the distance in two strides, and he was already kissing Aoife before she pulled the shower door closed. They stayed in the shower until the water ran cold and then moved to the bed.

A bit later, Chibs lay on his back, Aoife curled up against his side with her head on his chest. He held his lass tight against him, clinging to her like a drowning man with a life-preserver. "You seem troubled, Filip."

"Aye, that I am, lass." He saw a fearful look on her face as she sat up. "Not troubled about you or us, _a chuisle_. This," he pointed at her and then him, "is the best damn thing that's happened to me. I just need someone to talk to. Today was rough."

Aoife smiled and rolled out of bed. She grabbed her robe off the hook in the bathroom and held out her hand. "Come on, love. I'll make up some tea." Chibs let her pull him off the bed but paused to slip his boxers back on. When he joined her in the kitchen, the kettle was already on the stove and she was arranging some cookies on a plate. He sat down at the small round table and watched her move about the kitchen.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "Jax's son was born today."

Aoife peered curiously at him as she set the cookies in front of him. "That's good, isn't it?" Chibs shook his head, but the answer caught in his throat. Aoife frowned and commented hesitantly, "I didn't know Jax was expecting. I didn't think he had a wife or girlfriend."

"Ex-wife," Chibs corrected, his disgust with Wendy clear in the way he spit the word out. "She's a junkie – she overdosed and the docs had to do an emergency Caesarean." Aoife gasped softly. The kettle let out a piercing whistle. Chibs waited until Aoife had poured the hot water and put two steaming mugs on the table. When she sat down and reached her hand across the table to intertwine with his, he managed to continue. "The wee bairn's ten weeks early."

"Oh, the poor thing!" Aoife squeezed Chibs' hand sympathetically.

"He's up against some stiff odds. He's gonna have to have surgery to fix something wrong with his belly and his heart. The number I overheard today was a 20% chance of survival." Aoife stood and came to him. Chibs wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the terry cloth covering her chest. She clasped her hands behind his head and held him there. He felt the tears come, and he let them fall, giving her permission to see him vulnerable. "Jax is my brother in every way but blood. He's storming around, trying to pretend he's not in pain. He hasn't even gone to see the wee one. And I can't do anything for him. I just followed him around, helpless and mute, making sure he didn't hurt himself."

"You were with him all afternoon?" Aoife confirmed.

"Aye."

Aoife picked up his chin so he had to look at her. "Then you were doing something. You were being there for him," she assured him.

"Didn't feel like enough. And then there's Gem. She's being strong for everyone else, but I know this is ripping her up inside." More tears formed, and Aoife let him drop his head again while she stroked his hair.

"Is there something I can do?" She whispered. The tears in his eyes changed a little, gratitude mixing with despair. His lips formed the beginning of the word "no," but then he stopped himself. He had an idea.

"Aye, lass, I think there is. Gem likes you. Tomorrow, they're supposed to do Abel's surgery. I need to keep an eye on Jax. We're already committed to a job." Aoife nodded. Chibs had told Aoife about one tiny sliver of the club's business, that of providing security to trucking shipments. He allowed her to assume that all of their jobs fell into that category. "Gemma's not going to leave that hospital until that surgery is done. I expect Luann will be with her, but she'd appreciate the support." Chibs was so proud of himself that he smiled through his tears. It was a brilliant plan. Aoife wouldn't be alone waiting to hear from him and she would have something to focus on, which he knew helped her cope with her anxiety. It would cement the bond she was forming with the Queen of Samcro and one of the most established old ladies. "Would you mind terribly, _a chuisle_?"

"No, I'd be happy to, _a rúnsearc_." Aoife put her hands on his shoulders and locked her eyes with his. "I love you, Filip. They are your family. If there is anything I can do for them, I want to do it."

"And I love you, Aoife."


	20. Hanging with the old ladies

Chibs enjoyed the peace of waking up with Aoife in his arms. She was turning him into an early riser. In Chibs' book, sleep was good, but making love to Aoife in the morning beat it hands down. He'd been learning to compensate by taking quick naps in the afternoon, something he had time for now that he was showing up at the garage at the crack of dawn.

The morning of Abel's surgery, he said goodbye to Aoife at the door of the shop. "I'll pick you up after you close this afternoon and take you to the hospital. That way when we come back, I'll have a reason to bring Jackie-boy with me and try to get him to see his wee one."

Chibs found Juice gobbling down a bowl of Fruity Pebbles in the kitchen. "I don't know how you eat that sugary shit, Juicey-boy." Chibs put down the bag of fresh-baked muffins on the counter. Pulling out one of the coffee cake muffins and a butter knife, he sliced the muffin on a paper towel and put a pat of Kerry Gold butter on each half. He had forgotten the taste of real Irish butter until Aoife started slipping it in with his muffins when he left her in the morning. Biting into his little piece of breakfast heaven, he thanked his lucky stars again for his lass. She tried to take care of him. He'd spent his life as a protector, and having someone take care of him was a strange reversal of fortune.

"Need the sugar to stay awake. No time for sleep." Juice responded between gulps. Ah, Chibs realized, that explained why his young friend was up before 6:30 – he'd never gone to bed. Juice held up a scrap of paper between his fingers triumphantly. "But I got it."

"Got what?" Chibs asked, keeping his voice low even as he plucked the paper from Juice's fingers.

"You're looking for a silver 2005 Chevy Impala. That's the license plate number. But I've got one better for you." Juice paused for dramatic effect.

"Don't make me wait, Juicey."

"I know where it is. Municipal lot about two blocks away from the coffee shop behind the library. And it's on our tow list for violating parking ordinances."

"I could kiss you right now, Juicey-boy," Chibs declared. "The prospect and I are going to head out with the truck."

* * *

Chibs leaned over and looked in the windows of the Impala. Sure enough, there was a scattering of papers on the front seat and a cell phone plugged into the lighter. "Prospect!" he bellowed.

"Yeah, Chibs?" Half-Sack was next to him in a heartbeat.

"You got your gloves on?" He watched the prospect hurriedly put them on. Chibs unlocked the car door and handed the prospect the black duffel bag. "Anything personal in the car, you stick it in this bag. Be quick about it. I'm going to check the trunk." Chibs stayed on alert. He wanted their job done and the rental car towed before the municipal lot started to fill up. The only thing in the trunk was a small brown leather suitcase. They hooked up the rental car and placed the suitcase and duffel on the bench seat between them. They rode in silence. Chibs desperately wanted to tear into the duffel bag and had to settle for gripping the wheel extra tight to channel his frustration. Before they turned into Teller-Morrow, he finally spoke to the prospect. "Take the bags to my dorm room and put them in the closet when we get back. If anyone asks you what you're doing-"

"I'll tell them running an errand for you. But no one will see me." Sack interrupted.

"You're learning," Chibs said simply.

* * *

Chibs walked Aoife to the hospital entrance and then through a series of winding corridors until they reached a small waiting area. Gemma was sitting in a small uncomfortable chair, tapping her right high heel impatiently. Luann was pacing back and forth. Gemma looked up and smiled tiredly. "Hey, Chibs. Hey, baby girl." Chibs opened his arms and Gemma hugged him.

"How's the wee one?" Chibs whispered.

"Just went into pre-op. They need to make sure all of his vitals are ok to start. Doc said it could be hours until it's all done." Gemma clutched him harder, and Chibs rubbed his hand on her back soothingly. He released Gem and put his arm around Aoife.

"I told Aoife what was going on," he explained.

Aoife broke in at that point. "I wanted to come be with you for this. I thought you could use the support."

Gemma's eyes got misty and she hugged Aoife before she regained her sarcastic shell. "It's going to be a long night with just us old ladies, if you think you can handle it." She tilted her head over at Luann, who was smiling at Aoife. Aoife nodded and Gemma squeezed her again, whispering a rare "thank you." When Gemma finally released Aoife, Chibs kissed his lass goodbye and she bid him to come back safely to her in Gaelic.

Aoife sat down next to Gemma while Luann resumed pacing. The three were silent, watching every person in scrubs that walked by. Then a dark haired woman in green scrubs emerged from the door Gemma had been watching and the Queen leaped to her feet. "How is he?" she demanded aggressively.

The doctor blinked. "All of his vitals are good. We'll be starting the surgery soon. I'm going to scrub in." Gemma continued to stand in the doctor's way. Aoife watched the interaction intently, the hostility between the two women a thick fog. "Look, Gemma, go get a bite to eat and a drink. This surgery is delicate and will take a long time." The standoff continued, Gemma and the dark-haired surgeon both had their arms crossed and were staring one another down.

"I am not leaving this corridor until my grandson is out of surgery." Gemma said tersely.

Aoife stood up and cleared her throat. Both women turned their burning eyes towards her. "I brought some things for us to eat while we wait, Gem. I figured you wouldn't want to step away."

Gemma looked like she might rip Aoife to shreds, but then she smiled and said, "Excellent. We both get our way, doc."

The doctor regarded Aoife coolly. "You know, if it was anyone else, I'd mention that hospital regulations prohibit food consumption outside designated areas, but I know I'd be wasting my breath. Another club old lady, I presume?" When Aoife didn't answer, the dark-haired doctor rolled her eyes and turned. "I need to get ready for this surgery." As she walked past Aoife, Aoife could see her ID badge that read "Tara Knowles."

Gemma glared as Tara walked away. Aoife heard both of them mutter, "bitch."

The sandwiches and drinks Aoife had brought provided a temporary distraction, but once they were finished, the three women fell silent again. Luann and Aoife sat on either side of Gemma, each holding one of her beringed, manicured hands, which were trembling. Luann finally spoke, her voice loud in the corridor. "He's a Teller, honey. You know Tellers don't die easy. He's your grandson; Jax's son. He's strong. Remember what a little hellraiser Jax was?"

"He was that," Gemma nodded, her face cracking a little into a smile.

"Even when I see him now, all grown, it's hard not to think of that little boy hanging from the clubhouse rafters. Do you remember the time he decided to help my Otto fix his bike?" Luann began to relate the story. Aoife sat back and listened to the two women talk, grateful that Luann had found a way to distract Gemma. They traded stories about Jax and Thomas, whom Aoife figured out must be Jax's brother.

Aoife finally got up to stretch her legs and use the restroom. When she returned, Gemma was gone. "Where is she? Is everything alright?"

Luann answered, "Doc came out and said that they're going to go ahead with the second surgery. Gemma's around the corner talking to her."

"That's good, aye?" Aoife asked.

"It means he's at least stable enough they want to continue." Luann shrugged. "I think it's good."

"Ok. I'm going to step into the stairwell and send Chibs a text message to update him."

Gemma was pacing back and forth, agitated, by the time that Aoife finished her message to Chibs and got confirmation that it had sent. Aoife raised her eyebrows at Luann, and Luann just shook her head. "Everything alright with the wee one?" Aoife asked Gemma.

"He's fine. She just – I don't know why that bitch ever came back to Charming. She just gets under my skin."

"The doctor?" Aoife confirmed. Gemma nodded fiercely.

"Sorry, I'm just on edge tonight," Gemma sat down on the uncomfortable chair and put her head between her knees. Gemma's breathing steadied, and she turned to Aoife. "I need a distraction. Just need to talk about…something. Anything. You and Chibs doing ok?"

"We're good," Aoife nodded as her face broke into a grin. "I'm still struggling a little with his absences, but I couldn't be happier when he's with me. He's a good man."

Gemma snorted, as if she found Aoife's words funny. "Spoken like a true old lady. No, Chibs is a good man in the ways that count." Gemma agreed, nodding.

Aoife hesitated before she spoke. "What's an 'old lady?'" She felt her face redden. When Luann and Gemma didn't say anything for a minute, she rushed on nervously. "I heard some of the guys say it, and then the doc said it before, and now you just said it, Gem. So you two are called _old_ ladies, and you're okay with that?"

Luann laughed at that. "Oh, honey, nobody calls us 'old' and gets away with it. 'Old lady' is slang for a biker's SO."

"S-O?" Aoife didn't make the connection.

"Significant other," Luann explained. "Wife, serious girlfriend, that sort of thing. It means you're part of the family."

Aoife felt like she was missing something. "I'm not sure I understand."

Gemma considered Aoife for a moment. "Has Chibs told you that Samcro is like a family?"

"He's said that Samcro is his family, aye."

"Well, that's what being an old lady is about. It's a biker's way of saying that this woman is my family, and so part of my Club's family. The Club takes care of its old ladies, and old ladies take care of the Club." Gemma could see Aoife was still trying to wrap her head around it. "Luann's husband Otto is in prison, but she's still part of the family. If she gets in trouble, it's Samcro's responsibility to help her out because she's Otto's old lady. In return, if the Club needs something Luann can help with, like giving someone a place to crash for a few days, Luann will do it."

Luann bobbed her head in agreement. "When Jax's dad died, everyone took care of Gemma because she was JT's old lady. They'd still be doing that even if she had never become Clay's old lady."

"How long ago did Jax's father die?" Aoife asked.

"1993," Gemma replied quickly.

"That's a long time," she said thoughtfully.

"Becoming an old lady is a big commitment, baby girl. For a lifetime. Look at this," Gemma pulled her top over so that the crow on her upper chest was fully visible. "Every old lady has a crow tattoo."

Aoife stared at the tattoo longer than she deemed appropriate, considering it was just above Gemma's cleavage. Her eyes finally dropped while her mind raced. She thought back to the night that Chibs had admired her tattoos and then kissed her shoulder. He had mumbled something about a crow in his thick Scotttish accent. "That's what he was talking about."

She had Luann and Gemma's full attention now. "Chibs said something to you about getting a crow tattoo?" Gemma leaned forward.

"No. He mumbled something about my shoulder being the perfect place for a crow, but then when I asked him about it, he brushed it off as if it wasn't important. I think I understand now. It was far too soon." Even as Aoife spoke logically, she felt irrational joy bubble up in her heart. It was far too soon for that kind of commitment, but knowing that Filip thought of her in that way felt wonderful. And as for moving too fast, she couldn't deny that the feelings he stirred in her could only be described as love.

Gemma took Aoife's hands in hers. "It probably is too soon. But you're in deep with Chibs already. You have to decide whether you can handle this. Because with the way he looks at you, I can tell that he wants you for his old lady. If you can't stay the course, you have to be the stronger person and walk away."

"She's right, baby." Luann echoed.

Aoife wasn't sure what to say. She felt like both women were expecting something from her, but she needed time to think. She was rescued by a nurse coming out of the operating room.

"Mrs. Teller-Morrow?" the nurse looked at all three women, uncertainly.

Gemma smoothed the wrinkles out of her tight pants and stood. "I'm Gemma Teller-Morrow. How's Abel?"

"They're just finishing up, but Dr. Knowles wanted me to tell you that there were no complications."

Aoife was surprised to hear a familar Scottish voice let out a whoop of delight. She turned to see Chibs standing in the corridor. He greeted Gemma and Luann each with kisses on the cheek and then squeezed Aoife against his side. As the nurse left, Chibs addressed Gemma, "Jax is on his way in. If none of you ladies mind, I'm going to take my pretty little lass home and get her to bed. She has to be up early tomorrow morning."

Luann hugged Aoife first, and then Gemma wrapped her arms around her. "Think about what I said. And thanks for being here with me tonight. You get what family means. I like that about you."


End file.
